


Like father, like son

by themuggleriddle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuggleriddle/pseuds/themuggleriddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Riddle grew up in a muggle orphanage in London but what would have happened if he had been raised by his family, the Riddles from Little Hangleton?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, I kind of discovered how much I like the text editor of AO3 today and I thought it would be nice for me to post my fanfictions that are in others websites here. So, here is the first one. I'll try to post all the chapters I have up until now as soon as possible.
> 
> This story is being beta read by Shadow6116.
> 
>  
> 
> Harry Potter (c) J.K Rowling.

 

 

"What are your names again?" the old matron of the orphanage asked the couple who was following her across the building as she leaded them to the backyard, where the children were playing.

"Charles and Ellen Campbell," the man spoke as he saw his wife smile when the sound of children's laughs reached their ears.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, I must ask you if you would prefer to adopt a boy or a girl…"

"We don't know, Mrs. Cole," said the young woman. Her bright blue eyes were sparkling with happiness as she finally saw the orphans. "I guess it doesn't even matter if it's a boy or a girl…"

"I'll leave you two so you can get to know the children," the matron smiled. "You can talk to Martha if you need anything," she pointed at a young woman who was trying to prevent a little boy from eating dirt.

The couple nodded as they watched the old woman walk away from them and didn't waste a second to get closer to a group of kids who were playing near them. Most of the children, as they noticed the couple was there to choose a future son or daughter, approached them quickly and didn't hesitate to start talking, trying to get their attention. It was as if they were fighting in a silent way to get the chance to talk with the Campbells.

Ellen couldn't be more confused… There were so many wonderful children and she had to pick just one! She wished she could adopt all of them. After all, it seemed wrong to take one of them home and leave the rest there in that orphanage.

"They are all so lovely," the woman whispered as she watched a little girl playing 'he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not' with a flower. "It's impossible to choose."

"It's more difficult than we thought it would be."

"Yes…" With a tiny smile on her lips, Ellen looked around and, only then, saw a child she hadn't noticed yet. It was a pale little boy who was sitting away from the rest of the children. She couldn't see his face as he was looking at the opposite side of them. "Charles? Come here."

Grasping her husband's sleeve, she pulled him towards the boy and, as soon as they were near him, the child seemed to notice their presence and quickly turned around. Ellen couldn't help but smile as she saw the boy's face… He was quite handsome. His dark and perfectly combed hair contrasted against his pale skin and light blue eyes.

"Hello there. Why aren't you with the others?" the woman asked.

"It's too crowded," he said quietly, glancing at the other kids who were playing. "I prefer to stay here."

"What about your friends?"

The boy raised an eyebrow and stared at her with an expression that clearly said "Are you mad?" for a few seconds.

"They don't like me, Mrs. …?"

"Campbell. Why don't they like you, darling?"

He shrugged. "Because I'm different, I guess."

"Different?" Now it was Charles' turn to ask. "What do you mean by 'different'?"

"Simply… Different. I don't know how to explain."

"Mr. and Mrs. Campbell?" the couple turned around to see Mrs. Cole walking towards them. "Would you like to have something to drink?"

"Oh, yes, please," Ellen answered and then looked at the boy once again. "We'll be back soon to talk to you again, darling." She smiled at him before going to the matron.

"So, what do you think about the children?" Mrs. Cole asked, handing a glass of water to each of them.

"They are all lovely, Mrs. Cole," said Ellen, taking a sip of water from her glass. "All of them are so sweet…"

"Except that boy over there," Charles smiled and looked at the boy to whom they were talking a few minutes ago. "He seems to be a little lonely."

"Oh, yes," the matron smiled sadly. "He has always been like that… Quiet; always on his own."

"Always?"

"Yes. You see, Mrs. Campbell, he was born here. His mother stumbled into here on New Year's Eve several years ago, in labor," the old lady explained. "She was a really young and weak girl. The poor thing died right after the birth… She only had time to name her son… Oh, and I remember she said something like 'I hope he looks like his papa.'"

"Poor girl," Ellen sighed and looked at the boy.

"It's funny, you know?" Charles said. "He reminds me of a friend we have. I mean, his eyes and hair are the same color…"

A cheerful laugh was heard from Mrs. Cole, who shook her head as a gentle smile spread over her lips.

"It would such a coincidence, Mr. Campbell, if this friend of yours happened to be the father of our little Tom."

"Excuse me, what did you say?" the younger woman asked as she and her husband looked at the matron with confused expressions on their faces.

"Tom, that's his name. His mother asked us to name him Tom, after his father," Mrs. Cole explained, "Tom Marvolo Riddle, that's the name of that boy you just talked with."


	2. Tom Riddle Sr.

Tom Riddle loved traveling to London. It was always an opportunity to escape from boring Little Hangleton and from under his parents' watchful eyes. He simply loved the capital. It was so different from the calm village where he lived. There was so much more life at London… not to mention that most of his friends lived there. One of these friends was the reason why the young Riddle had traveled to the capital as quickly as possible. Charles Campbell had said he had some really important things to discuss with him, and, believing his friend, Tom left Little Hangleton as soon as he could. Now he was standing right in front the Campbells' house, waiting for someone to open to door for him while his driver was taking his luggage out of his car.

"Charles!" Riddle smiled widely at the man who had just opened the door. "It's good to see you."

"It's been quite some time since last time we've met." Campbell shook his friend's extended hand and motioned for him to enter the house before going to the driver who was still fighting to carry Mr. Riddle's luggage. "Let me help you…"

Inside the house, Tom entered the guest room. Upon entering the room, the man smiled politely as he saw Ellen sitting on the couch, fidgeting the hem of her dress. The woman smiled, getting up and walking up to him.

"Tom! It's so good to see you again." She stopped in front of him and smiled. "We were already starting to miss you. Have a seat, please!"

"I believe I can say the same, Ellen." The man laughed, doing as she had told him to. He watched Charles enter the room and go sit down next to his wife. "But do tell me why you two asked me to come to London in such a hurry. Don't tell me that someone messed up with one of our properties… I mean, my parents would go mad if they discovered that they didn't pay the rent or broke a window…"

"Don't worry, all the Riddles' properties here at London are in perfect order." The smile on the Charles' face faded as his expression grew serious.

"Do you remember that Charles and I were thinking about adopting a child?" the woman asked. She received a nod in response. "A few days ago we were visiting an orphanage, you see, and we…"

"Wait," Tom interrupted her. "Are you saying you made me come all the way from Little Hangleton to London only to let me know you adopted a kid?"

"No, we made you come to London to talk to you about something we've-" Mr. Campbell interrupted himself for a moment, before continuing. "… _Someone_ we've met at the orphanage."

"Tom, we know you don't like to talk about this," Ellen started to speak, hesitating a bit while looking at her friend. "But when you left the Gaunt girl…"

"Ellen, stop."

"Let me finish! When you left her, she was pregnant, wasn't she?"

"Why, for God's sake, do you want to know that? I mean, it's been years since that happened…"

"Was she pregnant or not, Tom?"

"Yes, she was, damn it!"

"Have you ever wondered what happened to her and the child?" Ellen asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"No… And I hope I'll never have to worry about that."

"Tom!" the woman gasped, looking at him with widened eyes. "It's your child!"

"Yes, but it's a child I've never wanted to have, Ellen." The man sighed heavily, ignoring the horrified look on his friends' faces and getting up. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm afraid I'll have to find another place to stay before traveling back to Little Hangleton. Don't take it the wrong way; you two are probably the best people I've ever met, but I simply can't stay here if you're going to keep bothering me with this nonsense." And with that, Tom headed to the front door of the Campbell's house, not bothering to pick up his luggage, which was still in the hall. He could ask someone to bring it to him later.

"Tom! Damnit… We've found him." Riddle stopped in his tracks when he heard what Charles had just said, but didn't turn around to look at the other man. "Your son… We visited an orphanage and he was there. His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle… and he is a miniature copy of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is Tom Riddle Sr., the character that most people a) forget that exist or, b) hate due to the fact he left Merope... He's one of my favourite characters from Harry Potter, even though he has only two lines in the seven books. This is just to show a bit of Tom Sr. ... isn't he a lovely man? (x
> 
> The idea of a friend of Tom Sr. finding Tom Jr. at the orphanage came to me a long time before I started to write LFLS, but in that initial idea, the couple (who, back then, didn't have a name yet) found an already grown up Tom Jr., when he was around 15 years old... Then I changed the plot and made Tom appear as a little boy (: it fits the story better.


	3. Tom Riddle Jr.

"Mrs. Campbell told me you would come… So, you want to see Tom Riddle, is that right?"

"Yes," the man whispered, starting to feel uncomfortable with the way the old woman kept staring at him. Ever since he had arrived at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole had kept her eyes glued on him, analyzing every move he made, and it was beginning to bother him. "I don't need to talk to him, you see… I just want to _look_ at him."

"I understand." The woman raised an eyebrow and got up from her chair. "Come with me, please."

The man followed the matron, feeling a weird sensation starting to build up inside him. It was the kind of sensation he used to feel when he was a kid and was anxious for something. It was weird, but he tried to ignore it and kept walking behind Mrs. Cole until they reached an old room filled with bookshelves and a few tables; maybe it was an old library.

The woman stood still by the doorstep and pointed at something inside the room. When he looked at what she was pointing to, Tom found himself staring at a boy who was sitting at one of the tables, reading a book he was holding in his small hands.

He felt as if someone had sucked all the air from his lungs as he looked at the other… The child was an exact copy of himself. They had the same pale skin, the same blue eyes, the same dark brown hair… The boy even bit down on his lower lip while reading, something that Tom himself had the habit of doing.

Taking a deep breath and looking at the boy one last time, the man turned around and looked at the matron. "I… Thank you, Mrs. Cole, but I'm afraid I have to go now."

"What…?" The woman stared at him blankly, before following him quickly. "Is there any problem, sir?"

"No, really, everything is alright." He gave her a fake smile. "But I really have to go now."

Mrs. Cole stood in the middle of the entrance hall, staring at the man who was now leaving the orphanage as quickly as possible, not looking back as the walked down the street.

* * *

Ellen Campbell knew that eavesdropping was a horrible thing, but she couldn't help stopping by her drawing room when she heard Tom Riddle speaking in a quick and nervous tone at the other side of the door. The woman guessed he was at the phone, as she couldn't hear anyone talking back to him, and tried to understand the conversation.

"What are you doing?"

Mrs. Campbell gasped as she felt someone touching her arm and turned around quickly to see her husband standing behind her with a playful smile on his lips. "For God's sake, Charles," the woman whispered. "Do you want to kill me?"

"You shouldn't be eavesdropping. You know that, right?"

"I know." She took a deep breath, looking at the door in front of them. "What's going on?"

"Tom went to the orphanage today," the man explained. "He saw his… son."

"Oh…"

"He came to talk to me after he left the orphanage, and I must say I've never seen Tom as disturbed as he was today." Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He wanted to know what he was supposed to do…"

"And… What did he decide?"

"Well, he's going to keep the boy." Mr. Campbell smiled as he saw his wife sigh in relief. "I bet he's doing it only because he feels he has to, you know? Guilt, maybe…"

"But at least he's taking that boy out of that orphanage," Ellen whispered and smiled. "Tom may not think of that child as his son, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time before he starts to act like a father."

"I hope you're right, darling." The man laughed quietly before kissing her.

"And what is he doing now?" She pointed at the door.

"Talking with his parents," Charles explained. "You know how…"

"Shh!" The woman put her finger on her husband's lips, keeping him from talking; she was trying to listen what was going on inside her drawing room. "Let me try to listen…"

_"No, I'm not mad… Father! I am not mad! What? What do you mean we have no money to take care of a child? God knows we have enough money to take care of at least five of them! **You** don't have to look after him, we have what, three or four people working in that house, they can look after him… Alright, let me talk to mother, please? … Mother? Hello… Yes, his name is Tom… What he is like? I don't know, but he seems to be pretty quiet, I'm sure he won't disturb you… Yes, mother, a grandson… I know…"_

Ellen smiled, turning to look at Charles. "He's doing well, I guess."

"I know _I_ wouldn't be able to talk with Mr. and Mrs. Riddle like that. "The man laughed.

"Don't be mean!"

"I'm just saying the truth!"

* * *

"So you're Tom's father, right?" Mrs. Cole asked, raising her eyes from the bunch of papers that she was holding in her hands, and saw the man in front of her nodding. "That's what I thought; the similarities between the two of you are almost scary… Well, everything's done here, do you want to talk to him before…?"

"I just want to end this as soon as possible."

The woman's face contorted into a serious expression as she stared at him, not approving his rudeness. Ignoring the other's behavior, Mrs. Cole got up and went to the boys' room, asking his father to wait for them in the entrance hall of the orphanage.

Riddle kept looking around nervously while he waited for the matron to come back. What was he supposed t _o say to the boy? "Hi, Tom, I'm your father and I'm taking you home. Oh yeah, I'm sorry I only came to get you now."_ No, that wouldn't do.

It didn't take too long for Mrs. Cole to get back, now with a small suitcase in her hand and a child following her. The boy's stare instantly fell on the man and Riddle felt totally exposed as he was being analyzed by those cold blue eyes.

"Here it is." The woman practically threw the suitcase into Riddle's arms, before kneeling down in front of the child. "Take care of yourself, Tom, please."

The boy didn't say anything and didn't show any emotion as the matron hugged him tightly. When the woman let go of him, her eyes were shining with tears… She had never demonstrated it too much, but she always felt something stronger towards the Riddle boy, after all, she had been taking care of him since he was born.

"Good bye, darling." She pecked him on his forehead, before getting up and walking with them to the front door. "Take good care of him, sir."

The older Tom, just like his son, didn't say anything, only giving a curt nod before walking out of the orphanage and entering the car that was waiting for them.

"Who are you?" That was the first time he heard the boy's voice.

"Your father."

"You adopted me, then of course, according to the law, you're my father," the young Tom mumbled and the man couldn't help but ask himself if every six year old spoke like that. "I want to know what you do, sir."

"I live in Little Hangleton. It's a few miles from here, and I help my parents to take care of some of their business," the man answered. "And, by the way, I was already your father before entering that building and adopting you…"

"What do you mean?"

"Your name is Tom Riddle, right?" The boy nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tom… I'm Tom Riddle."


	4. Strangers

 

 _Tense_... That was the exact word that could be used to define the atmosphere of the Campbell's dinning room that night. Tom Riddle Sr. sat in silence, staring at his son once in a while and ignoring the conversation that Charles and Ellen were trying to have with the boy. The child seemed to be uncomfortable with all the attention the couple was giving to him and, sometimes, let his gaze fall on his father, examining him for a while, before looking back at the couple.

"How old are you, Tom?" Ellen asked, gently smiling at him.

"Six," the boy said quietly, turning his attention back to his plate. "But I'm turning seven in December."

The woman's smile widened and she kept asking him things: what he liked to do, if he had already left London before, if he liked the dinner they have prepared… They seemed to be more interested in the child than his own father, but it wasn't something unexpected. Mr. Riddle had always been the kind of person who had to become used to someone before starting to speak to him or her, and it was obvious that it would take a long time before he became used to that boy… At the time, he didn't want to know the child and didn't want to be known by him.

When dinner was over, Ellen led the boy to a bed on a spare room they had when she noticed how her friend seemed to be avoiding approaching his son. Charles accompanied the man to the guest room, where he gave him a drink and sat down on the couch, ready to hear everything he knew the other wanted to say.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Mr. Campbell asked, seeing his friend running a hand through his dark hair and sighing heavily.

"Stay here until my parents set everything up back at home… I mean, if you want we can go to one of our apartments here at London."

"Don't be silly, you two can stay here as long as you need to." Charles laughed. "After all, Ellen loves being near Tom."

The expression on the other man's face changed instantly as he heard his son's name being said. "Tom, he is your son, you'll have to get used to it."

"As I said before, he's a son I've never wanted to have." Mr. Riddle put the glass he was holding down, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know if I _can_ take care of him…"

"It may take some time before you get to know each other better and get used to being around each other, but it's obvious you'll manage to take good care of him."

An emotionless smile appeared on Tom's lips as he raised his head to be able to look at his friend's face.

* * *

"Good night, sweetheart." The woman who had spoken to him back at the orphanage turned the lights off and closed the door as she left him by himself inside the room. She was gentle and reminded him of Martha, one of the girls who worked at the orphanage and had always been nice to him. But Mrs. Campbell's gentleness wasn't enough to make Tom's discomfort vanish. It was as if he was in the wrong place, disturbing someone's life… And he knew very well that the person who was disturbed by his presence wasn't the Campbell couple, but the man who said he was his father.

Tom Riddle. They had the same name and their appearance was practically the same, but the way they looked at each other made them seem to be completely different people. The man stared at him with a serious look and Tom gave him a cold gaze… It wasn't as if he expected a relationship between father and son to be.

The boy looked at the shadows at the ceiling being cast by the trees outside the window. A lot of children would have been overflowing with happiness if they were in Tom's place… Actually, the young Riddle himself had always dreamed about the day his father would walk into the orphanage and take him home; he had dreamed about how happy he would be when it happened, but now everything he felt was a huge discomfort as he tried to imagine what would happen in the future.

* * *

Tom Riddle changed his clothes and let himself fall on the bed. Everything that had happened in the last few days was so confusing… As confusing as what had happened years ago, when he woke up one day and discovered he was married to a stranger who claimed to be pregnant with his child.

All the gossips about him would rise again at Little Hangleton… Just when the gossips about his marriage with the tramp's daughter were starting to disappear. _"Great, Tom. Can't you stop making mistakes for once in your stupid life?"_

Worse than all the gossips would be the disappointed look from his parents. Mr. Riddle wasn't happy with the fact that Tom had found a son in the middle of London and he could remember very well how badly his father had reacted to the Merope Gaunt fiasco… Back then, Tom was sure the man wouldn't hesitate to disown him, but he didn't do so thanks to his mother. Speaking of Mrs. Riddle… Well, she was a little bit excited with the idea of finally getting the grandson she had wanted so much for so long, even though she was afraid the boy would turned to be like his mother.

Riddle smiled softly. No, his son was nothing like Merope, at least not in his appearance, but the man couldn't help but become a little afraid about other things… Was it possible that the boy was like that woman, able to do… things like his mother?

 _"Stop thinking and sleep,"_ the man whispered to himself, turning around on the bed and hugging a pillow. _"It'd the best you could do now, Tom."_


	5. Little Hangleton

The tense atmosphere was still around father and son when the two of them entered the car to travel back to Little Hangleton. Tom had no idea what he could talk about with the boy, so he decided it would be better to stay in silence during the hours they would have to stay in the car. The child didn't seem to want to talk to him anyway.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you already, to Little Hangleton. That's where I live," the man explained without looking away from the visage that went by outside the window.

"Where is it?"

"Does it matter if I tell you? It's not as if you're going to understand…"

The boy stared at him for a while, before turning his head so he could look to outside. "Does it have a beach?"

"What?"

"I want to know if it's a seaside city," the younger Tom spoke slowly, as if he were the one talking to a small child.

"Ah, no, it's not," the man explained. "But it's next to Hornsea, which is a seaside city."

Those were the only words they shared during the whole trip.

* * *

Tom smiled when he saw they were already in Little Hangleton when twilight approached. Riddle rubbed his face with a hand, trying to wake himself up a little, and looked at the other side of the seat, where his son was sleeping with his face against the window's glass.

"Boy?" the man called, gently poking the child's arm. "Wake up."

The younger one mumbled something in his sleep and ignored his father. Tom saw that the driver had already stopped the car in front of the small hill where the Riddles' house stood and sighed. He leaned in closer to the child and shook his arm slowly. "Come on… You can't stay asleep now; my parents want to meet you."

The little boy whispered something but quickly straightened and, like his father, rubbed his face with his small hand, trying to wake up. The man opened the door, letting the younger Tom leave the car, and then followed him. When the two of them were out of the car, Tom held his son's hand and led him to the big house on the top of the hill. As they reached the front door, Riddle took a deep breath before knocking on it, bracing himself for everything he knew his parents would say.

"How can I help you…?" A young woman appeared by the door, but her eyes widened when she saw the Riddles' son standing in front of her. "Oh! Mr. Riddle, come in…"

The man walked by the maid whose eyes were locked on the boy following her employer. Tom, ignoring the surprised expression on the woman's face, led his son to the guest room, where he knew his parents would be waiting for them, but stopped in front of the door. He looked at the child.

"Look at me." The boy did as he was told to. "You're going to meet my parents, so… Please, don't do anything that might… embarrass me, alright?"

"Alright."

Tom knocked on the door before opening it. Mr. and Mrs. Riddle were sitting by the table, drinking tea, but both of them seemed to forget their drinks as their attention was caught by their son's arrival.

"Tom." That was the only word that left Mr. Riddle's lips as he saw the young man entering the room.

"Darling!" The woman got up and walked to her son, kissing him on the cheek. "How was the trip?"

"It was good, mother." The man noticed that his parents' eyes were fixed on the boy standing next to him. "Ahm… This is Tom."

For a moment, Riddle thought the boy would finally lose that cold attitude when he saw himself as the target of his grandparents' intense stares, but he looked back at the adults the same way they were looking at him.

"He looks like you, Tom," the woman spoke while a tiny smile appeared on her lips. "He has your eyes…"

"His eyes, his hair, his face…"

"Thomas, _please_." Mrs. Riddle shot a reprehensive look in her husband's direction. "You two must be hungry, I'll get Maggie to prepare something for you to eat and then you can go to bed…"

"I want to talk to you, Tom, before you go," the older Riddle said before his son and his grandson left the room.

* * *

"A few years ago, Tom, you ran away with the daughter of that tramp, Gaunt." Thomas Riddle's voice was serious and cold as he spoke to his son. "Now, you go to London and come back with a son… Don't you understand that all those stupidities you do does not only stain your reputation, but ours as well, Thomas?

His father was furious… His voice's tone, the way he paced around the room and how he called him "Thomas" instead of "Tom" made it obvious.

"Father…"

"You stain our family's name…"

The younger man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the harsh words that were coming from his father. It was the only thing that kept him from panicking when Mr. Riddle started to blame him for every bad thing that happened in their family for the last few years.

"… Son of a mad woman, that's what the boy is!"

"Thomas, for God's sake, don't talk like that!" Mrs. Riddle interrupted her husband, horrified with what he had just said. "He's your grandson."

"And he's Gaunt's grandson too! What a pride for our family, isn't it?" Mr. Riddle practically spat the words on his son's face. "We're now related to the Gaunts, that's everything I needed…"

Tom's ears were now deaf to every word that left his father's mouth while his mind was far away from that room. The only thing he could notice was that his parents were arguing, but it wasn't as if he wanted to understand the reason of their argument… No, he just wanted to ignore everything that was going on at the moment.

* * *

Tom's room at the Riddle's house was pretty and comfortable; very different from his old room at the orphanage, which was old and cold, but, just like when he was at the Campbell's house, the boy felt he was bothering someone by just being there… And now he knew it wasn't only his father who was bothered by his existence.

He could hear the voices from downstairs. That old man, his grandfather, wouldn't stop screaming things like "You stain the name of our family," or "And he's Gaunt's grandson too! What a pride for our family, isn't it?"… Tom had no idea of who this Gaunt man was, but he was sure he didn't have the best reputation in the village. He had already heard his father and Mr. Campbell talking about someone called Gaunt, and it wasn't good things they were talking about… And he was related to that man, to that tramp, as the others called him.

"Tom, darling?" His grandmother's voice echoed in the corridor right outside his room's door. "He's just stressed; you know he didn't mean anything he said…"

"I know very well he meant every word, mother," his father answered.

"Don't worry, Tom, soon he'll see that this boy is not… How did he say? ... Is not a black spot in our reputation."

"The problem, mother, is that I don't know if I can do it," the man spoke. "I can't take care of a child! I don't even know him! The only thing I know about that boy is that he seems to dislike me…"

"You two are closing yourselves to each other…"

The voices started to fade as the two adults walked away from his door. Tom turned on his bed, burying his face into his pillow and wrapping the sheets around his small body, telling himself to calm down… Really, this was nothing like the idea of 'family' he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must thank my friend Sosso, for this chapter. I remember that when I was writing for the first time, I asked her if she knew a city that could be my "base" to imagine Little Hangleton, because I always like to have something to inspire me when it comes to describing places (or, in Little Hangleton's case, as it is a fictional city, I like to have an idea of where it may be located)... So, Sosso started to research british villages that were located inside the possible area where Little Hangleton would be and she found a village called Leven on the East Riding of Yorkshire and we fell in love with it. Leven is right next to a seaside city called Hornsea, another thing that made us choose that especific village. So, yeah, Leven is my Little Hangleton and I wish someday I'll be able to visit this village. :)


	6. Do you think I'm a freak, dad?

 

_"It is much easier to become a father than to be one."_

**Kent Nerburn**

 

 

**  
**

* * *

The days passed and Tom Riddle Jr. started to become used to his life in Little Hangleton, even though his relationship with his father hadn't developed any further. The man still tried to stay away from the boy, not talking to him and was always looking in a weird way in his direction… If it wasn't for their physical resemblance, a person could say they weren't even related.

His grandparents made sure he would get the best education he could have near the village and now Tom studied in a good school in Great Hangleton, which was six miles away from his home. According to Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, the school in Little Hangleton wasn't good, or at least not good enough for a Riddle. With only a few weeks into the school, the boy had already shown himself to be very intelligent. The teachers would congratulate him for his high marks, his will to learn and for his good behavior. All these things made Mr. Riddle start to develop some kind of affection for his grandson and made Mrs. Riddle only like little Tom even more.

The only thing the teachers complained about was the fact the young Riddle seemed to be too cold toward his classmates. He didn't have friends and was sometimes found near an odd incident that happened in the school… But all this complaining was, in the Riddles' point of view, only the teachers being annoying.

What Mr. and Mrs. Riddle didn't know was that their grandson didn't really tell them everything that happened at school… Like the day an older boy found him whispering things to a snake and said he was mad. No one ever discovered how the boy's school bag mysteriously disappeared, only to be found in a river near the school later.

The other children were either afraid of Tom, or they didn't like him, just like when he was still in the orphanage… But, under Mary and Thomas' eyes, that only happened because their grandson was 'too smart and mature' to be around boys and girls of his own age. Of course the young Riddle knew that wasn't the truth… He knew he was different, but didn't know what made him different, that was why he preferred to stay quiet and not try to talk with his grandparents about what was happening.

* * *

It was really cold in Little Hangleton for New Year's Eve that year, but it didn't stop Mary Riddle from running up and down the house, screaming at the servants while she tried to organize the house for the New Year's party they were going to have that night. Mrs. Riddle wouldn't rest while she watched the others doing what she ordered them to do. Actually, the woman only got more and more stressed.

"Maggie? Maggie! For God's sake, clean that table, it's filthy!" The maid grimaced as she looked at the table her employer pointed at, remembering she had cleaned it just a few minutes ago. "What are you waiting for? _Go!_ "

"Yes, Mrs. Riddle."

Tom Jr. learned, in the few months he had been living there, that when his grandmother had those perfectionism attacks, the best thing he could do was to stay in his own room while she went around the house complaining about silly little details that, in her eyes, seemed to be wrong. He knew she and none of the servants would enter his room, at least not while he kept his door closed.

"Tom?" The boy raised his head to see his grandparents standing by his door. "Are you busy?"

"No."

Mrs. Riddle smiled and approached him, followed by her husband.

"Happy birthday, darling." The woman kissed his forehead. "Your first birthday with us."

"Happy birthday, boy."The old man tapped him on the shoulder, handing him a package.

"Sir, you didn't have to…" Tom whispered, feeling his face reddening. "You already gave me gifts for Christmas…"

"Don't be silly." Mary laughed. "Oh, sweetheart, I hope you like it, but now I have to go… I must see if Mr. Bryce is taking good care of my garden."

His grandfather bowed his head to him one last time before leaving the room. The boy couldn't help but feel a little scared… The party the Riddles were organizing was going to be big and elegant, and those kinds of things didn't match him. And, to go with it, the family's friends were going to be there… And every one of them was curious to meet the son of Tom Riddle. The boy simply wasn't sure if he would be able to make through the night.

* * *

Tom Riddle Sr. couldn't calm down. He would have to look in the eyes of a lot of people who were going to ask him about his son… A son that he didn't even know well! How was he supposed to talk about that boy with someone if he didn't know what the child was like? And what would happen if they asked about his mother?

"Run away from the subject," he said to his own reflection on the mirror as he knotted his tie. "It's easy."

There was another reason for his anxiousness: Cecilia, his old 'girlfriend'. They used to be together every day and night before Merope Gaunt messed up his life and now they hadn't spoken to each other for a long time… He knew she had married another man during the time went missing, and she already had a son and… Well, but he couldn't help to feel nervous with the prospect of talking to her again.

"Tom? Are you ready?" His father's voice called.

"I'm almost done."

He smiled at himself in the mirror, trying to hide his nervousness. He took a deep breath, before walking out of his bedroom and going downstairs.

There were a lot of guests, and all of them were dressed in their best and most elegant clothes, trying to shine the most in the middle of high classed people. All of them trying to be noticed while the owner of the house only wanted to hide under one of the tables.

"Tom, long time no see."

He knew that voice and, when he turned around, he recognized the woman standing in front of him. Tall and elegant, wearing a blue dress with a white scarf wrapped around her shoulders, Cecilia didn't need much to make the man in front of her almost pass out. Her blond hair was styled in a perfect way and her blue eyes wouldn't leave Tom's face. Cold and elegant… That was Cecilia.

"Cecilia…"

"William, darling, come here." A blonde man with green eyes approached them, followed by a little boy. "This is Tom Riddle. Tom, this is my husband, William Wright, and this is my son, Peter."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Riddle shook the other's hand, giving him a tiny and uncomfortable smile.

"The pleasure is all mine." William laughed. "You're famous in our house, Cecilia won't stop talking about you."

"I hope she says good things about me."

"Oh, of course I only say good things!" The woman laughed, watching as her husband walked away with her son to get something to drink. "So, is what I heard true? Does Tom Riddle really have a son?" She was provoking him. "How is he? Does he look like you?"

"A lot," Tom answered while a weak smiled appeared on his face. "It's almost scary."

"It must be… Oh, may I meet him, please?"

Riddle looked at Cecilia for a few seconds, before sighing and leading her to the second floor of the house, to his son's room, where he knew the boy was. He knocked on the door and, without waiting for an answer, entered, followed by Cecilia.

"Oh, Tom! He's just like you!" The woman giggled as she looked at the child who was sitting on his bed, finishing knotting his shoelaces. "Such a handsome boy…"

"Tom, this is… Cecilia Wright, an old friend of mine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." The boy said quietly.

"The pleasure is mine, my dear… How old is he?"

"Six," the man answered.

"Seven," the younger one whispered, but none of the adults seemed to hear it.

"My son is your age! Why don't you go play together?" The smile on the woman's lips grew larger. "He's downstairs with my husband. He's one of the few children in this party. His name is Peter."

The boy looked to his father, as if waiting for him to say something.

"You can go."

"Children." Cecilia sighed as she watched the boy almost running to outside the room.

"When did you get married?" Tom asked as he saw the woman closing the door.

"Right after you ran away with… you know who." She approached the man and raised her hand until her gloved fingers were touching his face. "You don't know how much I missed you…"

"Cecilia…"

"Shh."

Her lips covered his softly. Oh, how he wanted that… He wanted Cecilia, he wanted her kiss, her touch, her presence!

"Stop."

"Tom…"

"You're married."

"As if that's a huge problem for you."

"If I do any thing that may put me in trouble, my father will kill me," Riddle said, slowly pushing the woman away from him and going to the door. "You're married and you have a son, go take care of your family. I… I have to take care of my own."

" _Your_ family? It's a boy who you didn't even know until a few months ago!" The irritation was now clear in her voice. "You're going to leave me again, because of a boy now? A boy that came from that… that horrible woman?"

"Cecilia, please…"

She sighed and pulled the scarf closer around herself, before leaving the room.

"I'm going to see if William needs me, excuse me…"

 _"Great, Tom, you're a genius!"_ he thought _._

* * *

"So, what do you like to do?"

"I like to read…"

"Read? Just that?" The blond little boy asked, sitting down next to Tom on the house's veranda.

"Basically…"

"Don't you have friends?" Tom looked at the other boy and saw what he thought to be scorn on his face.

"Yes, but not many," he lied. He didn't have friends. "I guess it's because I'm… different."

"What do you mean by 'different'?"

The young Riddle sighed. He didn't want to tell Peter what he could do, but he couldn't hide it anymore from everyone… And, maybe if he told the truth, the other boy wouldn't be scared of him and would become his friend, right?

"I… can make things happen, you see?" The blonde's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "When I was at the orphanage… I could make things move without touching them, and make animals do what I wanted without training them."

"You're joking."

"I'm not. And…" A tiny smile appeared on his lips. "Please, don't tell anyone about this! You can't tell anyone!"

"I won't!" Peter smiled. "I swear! What else can you do?"

"I can speak to snakes too."

" _No!_ "

"Yes… They find me, whisper things…"

"I want to see." The blond boy crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Show me."

"It's cold, the snakes won't come out."

"Are you afraid of not being able to do it, Tom?"

"Of course not!"

"Then call the snakes… Come on."

He knew he shouldn't do that, but something inside himself spoke louder… He had to show that boy that he was capable of talking with the serpents, that he wasn't lying.

"Alright," The dark haired boy whispered. _"Is there anyone out there?"_

_"Yessss…"_

_"Can you come here, please?"_

Tom saw a small snake climbing up the edge of the veranda and crawl towards them, but didn't notice how Peter's green eyes widened in fear as he saw the animal approaching him while the other boy was whispering nonsense things to it.

_"Come on, we won't hurt you."_

_"What do you want?"_

_"I just want to see you."_ He extended his hand, letting the snake wrap itself around his fingers. _"Don't hurt me."_

_"Don't hurt me and I won't hurt you."_

_"Alright…_ See? I can speak to…"

Tom stopped talking as he saw how the blonde's face was pale and how he was staring at him in an scared way. It was only a matter of seconds before Peter ran away from the young Riddle, calling for his mother.

_"What happened?"_

_"I guess you scared him,"_ he whispered to the serpent. _"Or maybe I did."_

* * *

"Mummy! Mummy!"

"Peter, what happened?" Cecilia looked at her son, who looked horrified as he tried to talk to her. "Darling, what happened? Do you want a glass of water? Come on, mummy will get it to you…"

The woman walked with her son to one of the tables to get a glass of water. The boy drank the liquid quickly, but still looked scared.

"Cecilia! Hello!"

"Oh, hello, Ellen…" Cecilia didn't like Mrs. Campbell very much. They were friends, of course, but the excessive gentleness of the other woman had always gotten to her nerves. "I didn't know you were going to come all the way from London to a New Year's party."

"You know how Charles and Tom's friendship is, don't you? Oh, is that your son? How lovely… But what happened to him?"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to find out. Peter, my dear, what happened?"

"Mummy, he's mad!" the boy said.

"Who?"

"That boy, Tom, he's odd," Peter explained, seeing how his mother's face had become serious. "He said he could do things… Said he could talk with snakes! And he talked with a snake too, mummy! He almost made the snake attack me!"

" _What_! ?" the woman almost screamed.

"Cecilia, calm down."

"My son just told me that a miniature psychopath tried to kill him and you ask me to calm down?"

"Yes, I do… Peter, sweetheart, why don't you go search for your father? Ask him to give you something to eat."

The boy nodded before walking away from the women. Ellen grabbed her friend's arm and pulled her away from the other guests to outside the house.

"What was that?"

"Didn't you hear him? That kid tried to attack my son!"

"Peter must have misunderstood everything, Tom would never try to harm him."

"Look, Ellen, I know very well the kind of person that boy is." Cecilia almost stuck her finger into the other's face. "The Gaunts, those tramps who live across the river… It was that idiot that Tom ran away with! The boy is her son! I don't care how much he look likes a Riddle… He is, and will always be, a freak, just like his mother! Did you hear me? A _freak_!"

"Cecilia! Don't talk like that, for the love of God!"

"One day you'll see how right I am, Ellen."

* * *

Everything in the party went so great that even Tom was surprised. No fights, no accidents… only happiness, drinks and food. Now he only needed to enjoy the rest of the party and then leave the mess for the servants to take care of.

"Tom? Come back, it's almost midnight!" Mrs. Riddle said as she saw her son going up the stairs.

The man smiled to himself. Everything was alright, he only needed a new tie because some unfortunate person decided to bump into him while he was holding a glass of champagne… But, aside from that, everything was alright.

Taking the tie off his neck, the young Riddle glanced quickly to inside his son's room, seeing that the boy was already in his bed… His mother must have sent him off to sleep, saying that it was already too late for someone his age to be awake.

He was already almost reaching his own bedroom when something clicked inside his head…

31th of December… New Year's Eve… _Tom's birthday_.

He had forgotten his own son's birthday! How could he do such a thing? And why didn't anyone remember him of that during the whole day!

"T-Tom?" He called, slowly opening the boy's bedroom door.

"Yes?"

Tom Sr. entered the room, closing the door behind himself, and walked to the child's bed.

"Ahm… Happy birthday," he whispered, seeing how his son only stared at him with those inexpressive blue eyes of his.

"Thank you."

"It's best for you to go to sleep now…"

The younger one nodded and looked away from his father. The man turned around and, when he was almost reaching the doorknob, heard his son's quiet voice calling him.

"Do you think I'm a freak, dad?" It was the first time he heard any kind of emotion in the boy's voice.

" _What?_ " Tom looked at the child, who was now sitting on his bed.

"Do you think… Do you think I'm a freak?" Wait, what was that in his eyes? Fear? Was that fear he was seeing in the boy's eyes?

"Why are you asking?" The older Tom approached his bed once again, where he sat down next to his son.

"I heard Mrs. Wright speaking with Mrs. Campbell…" he whispered, looking down at his own hands that were fidgeting the blankets. "She said I was a freak."

Tom Sr. frowned, looking at the sad face of his son. Why the hell would Cecilia say something like that?

"I swear I didn't do anything!" the boy spoke before his father could say anything. "I was outside with Peter and I ended up telling him some stuff… I think I might've scared him, but I swear I didn't do anything!"

"What did you tell him, Tom?"

"I thought it would be better to tell him before we got to know each other better," the boy said quietly, not looking at his father. "Everyone goes away from me when they find out, so I thought that if I told him before… He wouldn't get scared."

"For God's sake, Tom!" The raised voice of the man made the younger Tom back away a little. "What did you do to get the boy so scared of you?"

"I… I told him that I can do things happen." The child looked at his father, before lowering his head once again, trying to hide a few tears that were now escaping from his eyes. "That I can make things move without touching them… That I can make animals do what I want…"

Tom Riddle Sr. felt as if someone had slapped him in the face and couldn't help but stare at the little boy in front of him with widened eyes. No, no and _no!_ That wasn't possible! That child couldn't be like the Gaunts!

"And that I can speak to snakes."

"What ? !"

"I… I can speak to snakes, I don't know how!" Tom Jr. was on the brink of a panic attack. "I simply can, it's always been like that… Peter asked me to show it to him and I did! But I wouldn't let the snake hurt him. I swear, dad!

The man kept staring at his son for a while. The boy's eyes were filled with tears, begging for his father's forgiveness, but Tom didn't know what to do… He was scared, scared of what the younger one was capable of doing, scared that he would end up like his mother! But, at the same time, the only thing he wanted to do was to hug that little boy and tell him that no, he wasn't a freak and that Cecilia was only jealous because her son wasn't as perfect as he was.

"Tom, look at me." The older one touched his son's face, making him look at him. "Since when could you do those things?"

"Since…always."

"Is that why you didn't stay around the other children at the orphanage?" The boy nodded. "They were scared of you… And now, at school, it is the same thing, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"And the snakes?" The man asked, remembering the image of Morfin Gaunt whispering things to serpents.

"They simply talk to me and, when I speak, they understand me, dad."

Why did the boy decide to start calling him 'dad' now? That was only confusing him even more.

Sighing, Tom Sr. passed an arm around his son and pulled him closer. The boy didn't try to go away. On the contrary, he threw his arms around his body and hugged him tightly. The man couldn't help but feel bad for the child at the moment.

"You're not a freak, son," Tom whispered while his hand caressed the other's dark hair.

"Then why… Why don't you like me?" The boy's muffled voice asked.

"It's not that I don't like you, but… I'm not used with being a father, I don't know if you understand."

"I'm not used to have a father."

"See? We're in the same situation." Tom Sr. laughed, hearing a muffled laugh coming from the child. "But I like you, don't doubt that."

The older one looked down at his watch. It was five minutes until midnight. He had to go back to the party.

"Happy birthday, Tom," the man whispered, kissing the top of the boy's head.

"You already said that," his son said, finally raising his head to look at him.

"I wanted to say it again." Tom dried the tears on the child's face with his hand and looked at his watch once again. "Your grandmother is going to kill me for doing that."

"What?"

Tom didn't answer, he just kept staring at his watch for a few minutes, until they heard the guests down stairs start cheering the New Year that was beginning at the moment. The boy was already going to ask what his father was waiting for before the man embraced him again.

"Happy New Year, Tom."

"Happy New Year, dad."

It didn't take too long for the child to fall asleep in his arms. The older Tom watched his sleeping son for a while, trying to decide if he should go back downstairs or stay there… Well, he wasn't in mood for a party anymore, so he put the boy down on the bed, before kicking his shoes off and lying down next to the other.

_"My mother will kill me…"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, we've got a first look on Cecilia, darling. It's funny, you know, before I wrote this fic, I had never seen a story that showed her, in Portuguese. After a while, some stories started to show up, but I know only three or four authors (myself included) that write about her in Portuguese. I didn't like her when I first wrote LFLS, but now I'm getting used to her character. I guess she doesn't like Tom Jr because he is the proof that the man she loved ran away with another woman... and she went all mad about Tom because, well, she's a mother and, in her point of view, her son was in danger, so I guess it's normal for her to be mad with the person who put her son's life in danger (even if Tom didn't really harm Peter). Anyway, I love this chapter :D


	7. The Letter to Mr. Riddle

 

"Dad!"

The man didn't even have time to put his suitcase on the floor before his son ran up to him and hugged him tightly. Riddle laughed out loud and ran his hand through the boy's head, messing up his tidy hair.

The bond between father and son had grown stronger since Tom's seventh birthday. Since that day, Tom Sr. had started to spend more time with the boy, getting to know him better and losing the odd fear he had towards the other… Slowly, both of them started to discover the they had more in common than just their appearance. It wasn't rare to find them spending time together, talking, playing chess, reading… The man discovered his son preferred to spend time with him or with his grandparents much more than with children of his own age. And now after almost five years since they had met each other for the first time, the two Riddles seemed to know each other for a lifetime now.

"How was it at London?"

"Great, Tom," the older one answered, going to his room, followed by the boy. "Ellen said she misses you."

"When are they coming here again?"

"I don't know, son. It's a bit difficult for them to travel now that they have a baby at home."

The Campbell couple had managed to adopt a baby girl a few months ago. Tom Jr. didn't know much about her, only that she was much younger than him and that she used to live in the same orphanage he lived before his father got him home.

"And what did you do while I was away?"

"I managed to beat grandpa in chess!" the child spoke, smiling widely. "Grandma taught me a new song on the piano and I read a lot. This place is actually kind of boring when you're not around."

The man smiled and sat down next to the other on the bed. "I'm here now, aren't I? Come on, your grandfather must want to talk to me."

* * *

When there was nothing else to do, Tom would sit down on his house's veranda and just look at the sky or at the village that extended itself on the bottom of the small hill where their house stood. Right now he was watching their gardener, Mr. Frank Bryce, take care of his grandmother's roses.

"Mr. Riddle? Your father wishes to speak to you." The boy heard the young woman who worked at the house calling him from the front door. "He's in the guest room."

Tom got up from the floor and went into the house, going straight to the room where the maid had said his father would be waiting for him. As soon as he entered the room, the young Riddle found his father talking with a man he had never seen before.

"Come in, Tom."

The stranger looked at him and smiled. That man must have been the weirdest man the boy had ever seen. He had long auburn hair and beard, wore tiny glasses that fit perfectly above his crooked nose, and was wearing really odd clothes. Really, what kind of sane person walked around with purple boots and a cape of the same color?

"You must be Tom Riddle." The man's voice was gentle. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Albus Dumbledore."

The younger one looked at his father, trying to understand what was going on. "Mr. Dumbledore is a teacher."

"Yes, I'm a teacher… Ah, thank you." Dumbledore spoke, sitting down in one of the couches the other man had pointed to. "But, before we talk about my job, I must give you this, Tom."

The teacher handed him a letter. The boy took it from his hands and stared at the crest that was engraved into the wax seal. It had an eagle, a lion, a badger and a snake surrounding a 'H' Below, there was something written in tiny letters: " _Draco Dormiens Nunquam_ _Titillandus_." Hesitating a little, Tom opened the envelope, taking out a piece of parchment.

 

**_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_ **

**_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_ **

**_.  
_ ** _Headmaster: Armando Dippet_

_._

_Dear Mr. Riddle,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore  
Deputy Headmaster_

_  
_

School of witchcraft and wizardry? We await your owl? Was this some kind of sick joke?

The boy raised his eyes and saw that his father had the same surprised expression on his face. Professor Dumbledore was looking at them with a gentle smile on his lips and a sparkle of delight in his eyes.

"What kind of joke is this?"

"It's not a joke, Mr. Riddle. Your son, Tom, has a place in our school…"

"I had never heard of that school before."

"Of course not. Non-magical people don't know about Hogwarts, Mr. Riddle. Only us, witches and wizards, do."

" Wizards?" That time it was the younger one who asked.

"Yes, wizards. Hogwarts is a school that teaches young wizards and witches how to control and develop their magic," the teacher explained. "Tell me, Tom, have you ever made something happen? Something you couldn't explain?"

The boy's face went pale. Of course he had already made things happen… Sometimes he didn't mean to, other times he did, but he never spoke about it at home. The only one who knew what he was capable of doing was his father.

"Yes."

"And have you ever asked yourself why you're able to do such things?" The boy nodded. "It's because you're a wizard, and a powerful one from what I can tell… Hogwarts will only help you to develop this magic inside yourself."

"How is it possible for sorcerers to exist and for no one to notice that they exist?"

Tom Sr. laughed quietly at his son's question. It was really difficult to convince the younger Tom of something.

"We have our ways to hide our world." Dumbledore winked at him. "You would be scared to know how many wizards live in the non-magical world without being noticed."

"This school…" the older Riddle started to speak. "Is it safe?"

"Hogwarts is one of the safest places in Europe, Mr. Riddle."

"Alright… Tom? Can you give us a moment?"

"But…"

"Tom, please."

The boy grimaced in a almost imperceptible way, but left the room without making any protest. Mr. Riddle ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed.

"You don't seem to be too surprised with the news, Mr. Riddle."

"I knew he was… different," said Tom. "Since he came to live here… He told me he could make stuff happen."

"Magical children start to show signs of magic when they are really young, normally in small events, like making objects move, lights flicker and other things like that."

"He can speak to snakes."

This time the teacher remained in silence, surprised with what the Muggle had just told him.

"What's wrong, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"Nothing, it's just that… Parseltongue, the ability to talk with serpents, is rare even among wizards and I guess I only know one family able to do such a thing," the wizard answered. "But a child with a non-magical family couldn't…"

"His mother was a witch."

"I beg your pardon?"

"His mother lived on a shack just across the river with her father and her brother… They were as odd family, you see? Until today, I still tried to understand how I got married to her…"

"Some wizards, Mr. Riddle, use magic in the wrong way," said Professor Dumbledore. "But not all of them are like that. So don't be worried about the fact your son is one of us… He has great potential, I can feel it."

"He always try to give the best of himself, you know? He won't accept being 'good', he must always be 'excellent'…"

"Hogwarts will give him the chance to be an excellent wizard, Mr. Riddle, believe me."

* * *

Tom saw Professor Dumbledore leaving, but hesitated to go talk with his father. He was scared… Excited, yes, but scared. He still remembered how his father seemed to be disturbed when he first told him about the things he could do, and now, even though the older Riddle seemed to be calm during the conversation with the teacher, Tom knew he was a little scared and confused, like himself.

Taking a deep breath, the boy got up from the step where he was sitting on and went to the guest room, where he found his father standing by the window, staring at the letter Dumbledore had given him.

"I never thought there was a book about the history of magic," the man said, looking at his son and smiling." And not one about transfiguration either…"

The younger Tom remained in silence, only looking at the other who was still looking at the parchment.

"You're way too quiet, Tom."

"What about Eton?" the boy said quietly.

"What?"

"I just need to do one last exam to get into Eton," Tom explained. "And I know grandpa and grandma want me to study there…"

The older Riddle looked at his son and sighed. Of course Eton would be great for him. His parents would love to see their grandson studying in that school, and everyone would know where he studied and… And Tom would be trapped in a place where he would have to hide what he actually was. The man hated to admit it, but he wouldn't hesitate in throw away a place at Eton if he could be somewhere else he knew he would be happier, and the same thing applied to his son.

"I like this Hogwarts," the man spoke more to himself than to his son. "It seems to be a good school…"

"But…"

"So, if you want… You can give your place at Eton to another boy."

A small smile appeared on the boy's lips as he looked at his father. "Really?"

"Really, Tom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this chapter, it reminds me of the part in Sorcerer's Stone when Hagrid tells Harry he's a wizard :3 and I always loved that part. Not much to say, actually... I don't think Tom Sr. would be too surprised once he discovered his son was a wizard, not after he knew what Tom Jr. was able to do. Now, why he agreed so quickly with letting his son study at Hogwarts? I don't know, the explanation of this lies on my vision of Tom Sr.'s character (and in another fanfiction I wrote and that I'll translate as soon as I can x_x)... I imagine Tom Sr wanting to do a lot of things in his life that his father wouldn't approve, so he knows how it's to give up what he wanted to satisfy someone... and he didn't want his son feeling the same way he feels (like: "What would have happened if I had done that and not this?")... I don't know if it makes sense.


	8. The Diagon Alley

 

Albus Dumbledore had always liked to assist young Muggle-born witches and wizards when they first found out what they really were. To see how happy the children looked when they discovered that they were magical always made the day for the deputy headmaster of Hogwarts… And it was that fascinated look Dumbledore had always admired that was all over Tom Riddle's face as he and his father entered the Diagon Alley with the teacher.

It took a week for the Riddles to confirm that young Tom would be attending to Hogwarts, but as soon as they did, Dumbledore made sure that he accompanied them to the Diagon Alley. They had already went into Gringotts to exchange some Muggle currency for the wizarding one, where Mr. Riddle had seemed to be unable to stop staring at the goblins who worked at the bank. They had also gone to Flourish & Blotts, where the wizard could swear the younger Riddle could not believe the number of books about magic he was seeing; the apothecary; Scribbulus Writing Implements; and Potage's Cauldron Shop. Now, they were finally entering Madam Malkin's store, where they would buy Tom's school uniform.

"Oh! Professor Dumbledore, good afternoon!" A short and plump witch appeared from behind the store's counter, smiling widely as she looked down at the boy. "First year at Hogwarts, I presume. Right, Albus?"

"Absolutely, my dear Madam Malkin."

"Alright, come here, my dear!" The woman took Tom's hand and leaded him to the back of the store, where she asked him to stand on a little stool in front of a mirror while she started to take his measures. "Excited for Hogwarts, darling?" she asked, smiling as the child nodded. "Everyone feels like that before going, even the ones who come from a wizarding family. Any idea of which House will be yours?"

"House?" the boy whispered, furrowing his eyebrows.

"We haven't spoke about that yet, my dear." Albus smiled from the corner where he was standing.

"Oh, I see. Raise your arm, please… Yes, like that, thank you."

"Once they arrive at Hogwarts, students are divided in four groups; the Houses," the wizard started to explain, seeing how the two Riddles had looked at him with a curious look on their faces. "They are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"And how do they know which house they'll be in?" Tom Sr. asked, glancing at his son whose eyes were fixed on Dumbledore's figure.

"They'll pass through a really simple test." The wizard smiled. "It's their personality that'll define in which house they'll end up."

"Gryffindor, for the brave and loyal ones," Madam Malkin laughed. "Hufflepuff, where the hardworking and loyal people belong."

"Ravenclaw, the house of the open-minded and wise ones," the teacher continued. "And Slytherin, where intelligent and cunning wizards find their place... The students discover which house they'll be right on the first night at the castle and, during their time at the school, the members of their house will become some sort of a family for them."

When the wizard stopped talking, the older Riddle looked over to his son, who had finally looked away from Dumbledore, and the man was certain that the boy's mind was now working on which house he would be in. Smiling softly, the Muggle crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched as the short witch continued her work, occasionally speaking with Albus or young Tom.

"Oh, Merlin, I can't believe this…" the deputy head-master said when they finally left Madam Malkin's store, looking at his strange pocket watch. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave you two by yourselves. I've just remembered I have an important appointment now."

"It's alright, Mr. Dumbledore," Tom Sr. spoke as he looked at the piece of parchment where everything they needed to buy was written down. "We're almost done here anyway; we just need to buy… a wand."

"Ah, yes, a wand! You can go to Mr. Ollivander's store." The wizard pointed to an old and dark store a few meters from them. "Mr. Riddle, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure was mine, professor." The man shook the other's hand and smiled.

"Tom, I hope to see you at Hogwarts soon." Albus smiled at the boy. "Goodbye."

The two watched as the wizard walked away before vanishing in the middle of the crowd, before turning around and walking to wand shop the teacher had pointed out to them.

"Hello?" Tom Sr. called as they entered the store, seeing that there was no one around. "Is there anyone…?"

"Good afternoon." A man's voice was heard from behind one of the shelves filled with long and dust covered boxes. "You can come closer. Don't be afraid."

When father and son walked closer to the counter, an old man with messy white hair and weird clothes appeared from behind the shelves. His blue eyes sparkled as they found the young wizard who was staring at him.

"Ah, yes, let's see…" The wizard vanished between the spider webs and the shelves, only to come back from there with a small rectangular box in his hands. "Willow. Twelve inches. Quite whippy. Unicorn hair core."

He handed the wand to the boy, who looked at the piece of wood for a while, before raising his eyes to the wizard once again, not knowing what he was supposed to do.

"Come on, try it!" Ollivander waved his hand and Tom did the same. The wizard smiled when nothing happened, before taking the wand and putting it in the box again. For a few minutes, the old man disappeared back into the store before coming back, this time with two boxes in his hands. "Here, try this one." He gave another wand to the boy. "Cherry tree. Eleven inches. Brittle. Dragon heartstring."

The older Tom kept watching everything in silence, trying to understand what was supposed to happen with those wood sticks that man handed to his son and asked him to 'try out', but, despite his growing frustration upon seeing nothing happening, the man had his lips slightly curved into a smile.

"Yew, thirteen and a half inches. Nice and supple. Phoenix feather." The old wizard extended a wand made of a pale wood… It was kind of odd, under the Muggle's eyes, but he couldn't help but notice how his son seemed to gasp softly as his fingers touched the wand's handle. "That's it." Ollivander smiled while he went back to behind the counter. "It costs seven galleons."

"How do you know this was the right wand?" Mr. Riddle asked as he gave the golden coins to the other, looking over to his son, who still had the wand in his hand and kept staring at it.

"Well, ask your son… The wizard knows when the wand chooses him. Yes, Mr. Riddle, the wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander explained. "Each wand has its owner and this owner will only change when the original one is defeated… It's extremely uncomfortable for a wizard to perform magic with a wand that doesn't belong to him."

"Can't you do magic without the wands?" the Muggle asked, remembering how Tom had told him he could make weird stuff happen since he was really young.

"Of course we can, but the wand is an instrument that helps the magic get out of our bodies… It conducts the magic, which makes everything much easier."The wizard smiled. "But it's rare to find someone who can perform really good magic without having a wand in their hands… Children normally do it much more easily."

Tom Sr. smiled before muttering a 'goodbye' to the old man and turning to leave the store, followed by his son. When they were about to leave the place, Ollivander's voice echoing behind them: "You are a powerful wizard, Mr. Riddle, I can feel it… Make good use of this magic of yours."

* * *

The man watched as his son kept his blue eyes locked on the pages of one of the new school books they had bought back at Diagon Alley. Ever since they left the wizarding alley and entered their car, heading back to Little Hangleton, Tom Riddle Jr. hadn't spoken a word. The only thing the boy did was to take a look in almost all his books, taking care to not let their driver see it, smiling at himself while he read some pages and looked through the illustrations that adorned them.

Actually, ever since they had arrived at Diagon Alley, young Tom didn't talk too much… But his father knew very well that didn't mean the boy wasn't enjoying himself. No, on the contrary, Tom Sr. was sure that this was the happiest day of his son's life. The sparkle of fascination that had appeared in the boy's eyes since he had first stepped into the Wizarding world didn't go unnoticed by his father's eyes.

Mr. Riddle smiled, looking at Tom once again before turning his gaze to the window, forgetting all the worries he had, telling himself that, at the moment, his son must have been the happiest boy in the world, and that was what mattered for him.

* * *


	9. Hogwarts

 

Explaining to Mr. And Mrs. Riddle that their grandson was giving up a place at Eton in order to study in a better, but unknown, school was a difficult task. The couple tried as hard as possible to make their son change his mind and go back in his decision of registering young Tom in this new school. In the end though, after hours and hours talking about the subject, they ended up giving up, believing that this Hogwarts could be a good place for their grandson to study.

The day Tom Jr. and his father left for London, where he would pick up the train to the school, Mary Riddle couldn't help but cry a little as she waved good bye to the boy. Thomas, on the other hand, just wished good luck to his grandson and, with a serious expression on his face, kept watching the two younger Riddles as they went into the car and left Little Hangleton.

When they arrived at London, father and son stayed at the Campbells' house for a day before September 1st finally arrived.

"When does the train leave?" Tom Sr. asked as he and his son walked down the King's Cross station.

"Eleven o'clock."

"Which platform?"

"Nine and Three-Quarters…"

"What? Are you sure this is the right number?" The man looked around. "There is no Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

"That's what's written here." Tom Sr. looked at the ticket the other was showing him. He felt the boy's hand squeezing his, making it obvious that his son was starting to become nervous. "It's almost eleven o'clock, dad."

"Don't worry." The Muggle smiled down at the boy. "We're going to find it."

The two of them stopped in front of the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. The young wizard's face showed how anxious he was at the time while his father kept looking around in confusion, trying to find the platform where the Hogwarts Express was supposed to be.

"You have to run into the barrier."

"What?" The older Riddle turned around to see a little girl standing right behind them. She had light brown hair that was held by a black ribbon, and her brown eyes sparkled playfully while she smiled at them.

"You have to run and cross it." She pointed at the barrier between Platform Nine and Ten. "You won't hit it."

"Who are…?"

"Emmy! For _Mer… God's sake! You can't run away from me like that in the middle of the station!" A red haired woman appeared out of the crowd and held the girl's hand. "We're late, you know that? Come on…" The woman fell into silence when she saw the Riddles._

"They don't know how to get to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," the girl whispered.

" _Emmy!_ " The red haired turned her back to the Riddles and spoke in a low voice to the girl in front of her. "That's because they must be Muggles who shouldn't know about the Platform…. You shouldn't…"

"Actually," Tom Sr. started to speak. "We really need to get to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

"See?" The girl shrugged.

"Oh, it's his first year?" The woman smiled nervously, pointing at the boy. "I supposed you're a Muggle, sir… So it makes sense that you don't know how to get to the platform." She shook her head. "Anyway, you just need to cross the barrier."

"I already told them that, Eve." The little girl sighed.

"Emmy, _please_ … You don't have to be afraid of hitting it." She smiled. "We're going first, so you can see how it works."

Without waiting for an answer, the woman ran in the barrier's direction, followed by the girl. Father and son watched until the two disappeared right before they hit the solid brick wall in front of them.

"Should we…?" Tom Jr. said, looking at the wall with a confused look on his face.

"I guess there's no other way."

And with that, the man held his son's hand and went in the barrier's direction. The impact that both were expecting never came and, before they could notice, they weren't between Platform Nine and Ten anymore, but standing on a completely different platform filled with people. There were parents waving good bye to their children, kids running to get a place in the train, men and women wearing strange clothes, some children carrying cages with owls and cats, others with toads or rats in their hands…

"We found it," the man said quietly, leading his son to the red locomotive that was stopped at the platform. "This compartment seems to be empty… Come on, I help you with the trunk."

The boy climbed up the train and, with his father's help, pulled his trunk inside. There were five minutes left before the departure when Tom leaned out of the compartment's window.

"Don't forget to write, you know how your grandmother will go mad if she doesn't receive any news from you." The Muggle laughed. "And take care of yourself."

"I will." The boy smiled.

"It seems that you're already leaving," said the man as he saw the other students entering the train and closing its doors.

"I'll miss you, dad." Tom Jr. whispered, squeezing the other's hand.

"Me too, but don't think about that." Mr. Riddle moved away from the locomotive and watched as it slowly started to move. "Have a good trip."

He saw his son waving him good bye and did the same. When Tom's arm disappeared from the window, the man lowered his and stared at the bright red train as it moved away from the platform.

"He'll be alright." The man turned around, seeing the same red haired woman who had helped them to get to the platform. "They all are going to be alright… Oh, I didn't even introduce myself, I'm Evelyn Shaw."

"Tom Riddle." He shook the woman's hand and smiled. "Are you a… er… witch?"

"Yes." She smiled.

"And, your daughter, is it her first…?"

"She's not my daughter."

"I beg you pardon?"

"She's my goddaughter," Evelyn explained. "Her mother was my friend and, when she passed away, I looked after Emmy, as her father disappeared…"

Tom stared at the woman for a moment, not knowing what he was supposed to say.

"You're a Muggle." The man frowned a little as he heard noted the tone and the name. "And what about your son's mother? Is she a Muggle too?"

"She was a witch," Riddle explained, feeling uncomfortable. He hated talking about Merope. "But she died when Tom was born."

"Oh, I'm sorry… Well, it's good to see a Muggle father raising his wizard son. Emmy didn't have the same luck, as you can see."

"Her father was a Muggle?"

"Yes, but he disappeared as soon as he discovered her mother was a witch."

Tom felt even more uncomfortable; after all, what that girl's father did was the same thing he had done to Merope years ago.

"You asked if this is Emmy's first year, well, yes, it is," said Evelyn. "But I know there's nothing to worry about, Hogwarts is a safe place."

"Did you study there?"

"Yes." She tugged her sleeve's fabric to take a look at her watch. "Merlin! Look at the time… I have to go, Mr. Riddle. It was a pleasure to meet you and I would love to talk more, but I really have to go, you know, I have some work to do and… Well, good bye!"

 

____________________________________________________

 

Tom Riddle watched the scenery pass by the window while he tried to imagine how Hogwarts would be like. The students, from what he saw, were totally different from what he knew; this could only mean that this school would be completely different from his old school.

"What did you expect? It's a school of magic," he whispered to himself.

"Do you always talk to yourself?"

The boy raised his eyes and saw the same girl from the platform standing by the door of the compartment. She stared at him with a curious look on her face, a smile was plastered on her lips.

"Do you have any problem with that?" the boy hissed.

"No, I do it as well sometimes." She shrugged. "By the way, may I sit here?"

He nodded and watched as she sat in front of him. "I'm Emily Derwen, but you can call me Emmy, and you are…?"

"Tom Riddle."

"That man on the platform… Was he your father?"

"Obviously."

"Hm…"

"That woman, was she your mother?"

"No, my godmother," Emmy answered. "My mom passed away when I was little."

"Ah, I'm sorry." The boy blushed. "Hm… My mother's also dead."

"I'm so sorry." She gave him a sad smile. "But, let's talk about other things! Which house do you think you'll be in?"

"I… don't know," Tom whispered. "I guess I'll fit in Ravenclaw the most."

"My godmother was in Ravenclaw."

"What about you? Which house do you think you'll be in?"

"I don't know, maybe Ravenclaw." She smiled. "How did you discover you were a wizard?"

"Er… A teacher from Hogwarts went to my house and explained everything about magic to me."

"Yes, but I'm sure you could make magic before he visited you, right?" Emmy asked. "Every wizarding child shows traces of magic… I used to make things move when I was irritated."

"Me too," Tom whispered. "But I could control those things."

The girl stared at him for a while, before smiling again. When they were about to start talking again, a woman appeared at the door, pushing a cart filled with sweets. She smiled at them. "Excuse me, would you like to eat something, my dears?"

 

____________________________________________________

 

To see the castle of Hogwarts for the first time was an unforgettable experience for Tom Riddle. The way the old building stood so imposingly above the dark lake they were crossing by boat made the boy even more anxious to enter it.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Emmy whispered, smiling like a Cheshire cat as she looked at the castle.

"Yes."

"They say there's a Giant Squid in the lake," the girl said, pointing at the dark water, and laughed when she saw the boy's eyes widen. "But, don't worry, it doesn't harm the students."

When the boats finally stopped, the students climbed out of them and followed the janitor, a man named Apollyon Pringle, to a tiny room inside the castle where they waited for a teacher.

"Good afternoon! Please, I need your attention." Tom smiled when he saw the same wizard who had taken him and his father to Diagon Alley, Albus Dumbledore, in front of the students. "The feast will start in a few minutes, but before you're allowed to sit down and eat, you'll be sorted to your house. The sorting is a very important part of any student's life inside Hogwarts. Once you're sorted, your house will become your family within this castle… Please, wait a minute here, I'll be right back for you."

As soon as the teacher left, the students started to talk to each other in whispers. Tom heard a boy behind him saying that the sorting test was a duel with an older student, while another girl said it was a simple test with some questions about basic magic.

"Do you know what this test is?" the boy whispered to Emily.

"No," the girl answered, wrinkling her nose. "But I bet it's nothing too horrible."

"Attention, first years!" Professor Dumbledore had come back. "Please, stand in line and follow me."

If Riddle had thought that the exterior of the castle was amazing, he couldn't find a word to describe its interior. His mouth fell open as he stared at the ceiling that seemed to be nonexistent, as he could see the dark sky filled with shiny stars above. Another thing that caught the boy's attention was the candles that filled and floated around the Great Hall. Tom could see that the students at each table were wearing a uniform with different colors. One table had cloaks with green collars; another with blue; another one had yellow and the other had red collars.

Dumbledore was now standing in front of a table filled with adults; the teachers, next to a stool, and he was holding an old hat. He put the hat on the stool and walked away. Most of the first years jumped and gasped as the hat started to sing:

 

 _"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_ _  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the _ _Hogwarts_ _Sorting Hat_ _  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in _ _Gryffindor_ _,_ _  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set _ _Gryffindor_ _s apart;_ _  
You might belong in_ _Hufflepuff_ _,_ _  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient _ _Hufflepuff_ _s are true_ _  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old _ _Ravenclaw_ _,_ _  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in _ _Slytherin_ _  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

_  
_

When the hat fell into silence, Professor Dumbledore approached the stool once again, holding a piece of parchment in front of him, and started to call the students up.

"Black, Alphard."

A tall boy with dark hair, grey eyes and a serious face went up to the stool, where he sat down and put the pointed hat on his head.

 _"SLYTHERIN!"_ the hat screamed and the boy, who was now smiling, got up and went to the table where the students were wearing uniforms with green details.

Abraxas Malfoy, a blond and pale boy, went to Slytherin, followed by Alphard Avery, a curly haired boy who wouldn't stop grinning while walking to his house's table. On the other hand, Septimus Weasley went to the Gryffindor's table with a happy smile on his face, while Penelope Lynch run to Ravenclaw's table, giggling.

"Riddle, Tom."

Tom took a deep breath before going up to the stool and sitting there. When the hat covered his eyes, the boy felt his face blushing, imagining how stupid he must have looked to the other students.

"Easy…" The boy almost jumped when he heard a deep voice inside his head speaking. _"SLYTHERIN!"_

Slytherin? But Slytherin was the house of the pure-bred wizards, and he wasn't a pureblood! Something must have gone wrong…

Before he could think about anything else, Dumbledore was already calling another name and he was getting up and going to the table where the students were wearing uniforms with green and silver details. As soon as he sat down next the others first years, the Slytherins shot him a cold glance, analyzing him carefully.

"Derwen, Emily."

Tom watched as the girl who had traveled with him put the Hat on.

_"HUFFLEPUFF!"_

He smiled as he watched Emmy run to the table next to his and sit down next to a girl with curly red hair. Turning to look at his new housemates, the boy noticed that all of them were already busy talking to each other about their families.

"My dad works at the Ministry," the blond boy, Abraxas, said with pride. "He said that, in the future, I'll work there too… By the way, Alphard Black, right? My dad knows yours."

"Yeah, I've already heard about the Malfoys," a boy with dark hair and grey eyes spoke.

"I also heard a lot about the Blacks." Abraxas laughed and pointed at Tom and two other boys. "And who are you?"

"Alphard Avery," said a boy with dark curly hair.

"Canopus Lestrange."

"Tom Riddle."

Everyone fell into silence and stared at him. Tom felt his face blushing and, before he could ask what was going on, Malfoy and Black started to laugh.

" _Riddle?_ " Avery grimaced and laughed. "Alright…"

 

____________________________________________________

 

"This is your dormitory," the Slytherin prefect said, and he pointed at their beds. "Your things are already here. I don't want to see any of you out of bed right on the first day, do you understand me?"

When the prefect left the room, leaving the first years alone, Tom sat down on his bed, running his hand through the green blankets that were above it, remembering, for some unknown reason, the first night he had back at the Riddles house.

"Hey, Riddle." The boy raised his eyes to see Malfoy staring at him. "What are you? A half-blood?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are there any wizards or witches in your family?" Avery spoke really slowly, as if he was talking to a toddler.

"I… I don't know." Tom answered.

"It's a _Muggleborn_!" Canopus Lestrange widened his eyes as he spoke. "The Hat must have made a mistake! Slytherin isn't a place for Muggleborns!"

"I noticed the Sorting Hat sorted him too quickly," said Abraxas. "It must have misplaced him…"

"Or maybe it simply didn't have anywhere else to put him." Lestrange laughed.

"If that was the case, why didn't he go to Hufflepuff? Isn't that where the rest of the students go?" Alphard tried to restrain himself from laughing, but didn't quite manage.

Tom frowned as he stared at the group of boys, before turning away from them and starting to busy himself with his things, trying to tell himself that, no, Hogwarts wouldn't be just be a magical version of his former school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Sorting Hat creates a new song each year, but... I'm really not good at writing songs like he is, and I love the song from the first book :3 So, here it is.


	10. Classes

Potions was an interesting class. It was the only class they had in the dungeons, and the only class where the teacher didn't give them any homework on their first day. But now, in their second class, Professor Slughorn had decided to give them a little assignment; some questions about potions and ingredients, for, as he said, 'just for fun'.

"Can someone give me an example of an antidote?" The teacher asked as he walked around the classroom. "Hmmm, what about you?"

"Mandrake Draught."

"And what can it be used for?"

"It's used against Petrification… But you have to wait until the Mandrake's mature enough before preparing the draught, otherwise it won't have any effect."

"Good, good." The teacher smiled at the small boy sitting behind the cauldron on a table near him. "Five points to Slytherin, and what's your name, my boy?"

"Tom Riddle, sir."

"Great, Tom…" Slughorn, turned around, starting to walk along the tabled again. "Let's see… Which part of a jobberknoll can be used in a potion? And in which potion it can be used? Alright, Tom, go ahead."

"Its feathers are used in Memory Potions and Truth Serums, like Veritaserum."

"Good! Five more points to Slytherin."

The boy smiled as he congratulated himself for reading at the Potions textbook twice before getting to Hogwarts.

"Now, knotgrass, lacewing flies and powdered bicorn horn can be used in which potion?"

Tom looked around, seeing the other students look at Slughorn with a confused expression on their faces. He remembered reading about those ingredients; they were used in a recipe in the book, but he couldn't remember its name…

"No one?" The teacher looked around, before turning to the Slytherins. "Tom?"

"It's a potion used to make a person look like another," Riddle answered. "But I don't remember its name."

"Good… Does anyone remember it? Ah, you; the young man from Gryffindor."

"Polyjuice potion!"

"Right, my boy! What's your name?"

"Septimus Weasley."

Slughorn asked a few more questions – and Tom didn't have the answer for only one and got another wrong – before moving forward to explain to his students 'how they could have a safe Potions' class.' He warned the students about what they were and weren't allowed to do inside the classroom, and then explained to them what each of the tools that were above their tables were used for, and how they were meant to be used. By the end of the class, Tom decided that, even though he wasn't surrounded by friends as he had expected, Hogwarts was still much better than his old school… After all, who would prefer Mathematics over Potions?

____________________________________________________

 

Tom Riddle almost shouted when a noise of something knocking on the guest room's window startled him. The man took a deep breath before putting the notebook and pencil he had in his hands aside and got up, going to the window to see what was making so much noise. Tom tilted his head when he saw a brown owl knocking its beak against the glass, trying to catch his attention. He was almost shooing the bird away when he remembered what his son had told him about how wizards communicated with each other: letters, letters delivered by owls.

Hesitating a little, he opened the window, letting the animal in. The man watched as it flew around the room in circles before landing on the top of a table next to the couch. Approaching the bird, Tom saw a letter tied to its feet and quickly managed to free the envelope.

 

_'Dad,_

_I'm sorry for not writing sooner, but we didn't have much free time, even though it's only the first week of classes._

_Hogwarts is huge! I yet have to learn how to walk around the whole castle without getting lost, but the older students help us out most of the times if we need it. Well, I at least know how to get to my dormitory and to most of my classes._

_Do you remember that Professor Dumbledore mentioned that the students are sorted into houses? I ended up in Slytherin, but I think the Sorting Hat –the hat that sorts the students – must have made a mistake, because Slytherin is the house of students who have wizard relatives… And I don't come from a wizarding family. Anyway, the classes are really interesting here. To have an idea, today I had Charms, Potions, Transfiguration and History of Magic… It's much more interesting than Calculus and English._

_Do you remember that girl who helped us to get to Plataform 9 ¾? Her name is Emily Derwen and she's in Hufflepuff, but I spend most of the time with her when I'm not in the Slytherin common room or the library._

_Speaking of Slytherin… Our common room is in the dungeons, under the lake! The older boys say that, sometimes, we can catch a glimpse of the Giant Squid outside the windows._

_Well, I guess that's all… I have to go now and finish some essays for History of Magic._

_Tom Riddle.'_

 

"Tom?" The man jumped when he heard his mother's voice calling him from the corridor.

"Damn… Get out!" He shooed the owl, which seemed to be enjoying the warm room and did want to be out in the cold. He stuck the letter in his pocket. "I'm here, mum."

Mrs. Riddle stared at her son when she entered the room. She knew very well when Tom was hiding something from her and… she was sure that he was doing it for quite some time, and now the look on his face was betraying his lie.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." The man smiled nervously and the woman stared at him for a moment, before sighing, looking away.

"Did you receive any news from Tom?"

"Er… Not yet, mum," Riddle lied as he watched his mother lay her hand on the top of the table where the owl was a few minutes ago. "But I'm sure he'll write soon."

"Yes, I know that… Tom, did anything come in here?"

"W-What?"

"It looks like something entered this room… This is scratched." She pointed at a minimal scratch on the table's wood… Damn perfectionism.

"I have no idea of what could have entered here."

Mary narrowed her eyes and watched as her son shrugged, before walking up to him and softly petting him on the shoulder. "I'm going to bed… Don't stay up until dawn, darling."

"Don't worry." He smiled as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I won't."

____________________________________________________

The days passed by quickly when he was at Hogwarts. The library had already become his favourite place in the whole castle and, every time he finished all his homework, the boy would hurry to the library, where he would stay as long as he could, lost in the books.

"There you are." He heard someone calling him and didn't need to look up to see who it was.

"Hello, Emily."

"Hello." The girl sat down besides him. "Our classes ended earlier today because Binns wasn't feeling very well… Want to walk around the castle a bit?" She waited for his answer while looking at the book he had in his hands, before pulling it from his hands. " _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_? Isn't Care of Magical Creatures a third year subject?"

"It's interesting."

"You always come here after classes, don't you?" The boy nodded. "Why don't you stay with your friends? I mean, why don't you spend time with those other boys from Slytherin? In Hufflepuff we always gather up in the common room to talk and…"

"Slytherin is not Hufflepuff, Emily," the boy said quietly, taking the book back from her hands.

Emily kept in silence for a few minutes, as if trying to understand what the other meant to say. "Don't you have friends in Slytherin, Tom?"

"I'm used to it." Riddle shrugged, closing the book and putting it in his bag. "I mean, at the orphanage…"

"Orphanage? I thought you lived with your dad!"

"I lived in an orphanage before…"

"But then… are you adopted?" Her brown eyes were widened. "You look so much like your dad!"

"He is my… real dad," Tom explained as he got up and walked up the library's corridor, followed by Emily. "But I only met him when I was six. Until then, I lived in a orphanage at London."

"Oh, I understand… You confused me, you know? You two are practically copies of each other," the Hufflepuff laughed softly. "So, how about taking a walk around the castle?"

"It sounds like a good idea." The boy smiled. "I mean, I still have to memorize how to get to a few classes."

"Me too… Did I tell you I got lost when I was trying to get to Charms yesterday?"


	11. The Truth

As the students started getting out of the Hogwarts Express, looking for their parents, Tom managed to make his way through the crowd of wizards and witches on Platform 9 ¾, trying to find his father. Off in the distance, he saw Emily talking with the red haired woman who she had said was her godmother.

"It's been quite some time." The boy turned around to see Tom Riddle Sr. standing a few meters behind him, smiling gently. The young wizard didn't hesitate to run to his father and hug him. "So how was the trip?" the man asked, running a hand through his son's hair.

"Good…Are we going to stay at Mr. Campbell's house?"

"I don't think so. Your grandmother is begging to see you and asked us to get back to Little Hangleton as soon as possible."

The two of them crossed the barrier which leaded them back to the Muggle King's Cross and then headed to outside the station. Tom Jr. clutched the green and silver scarf he wore closer do his neck, trying to keep warm even with the cold wind that hit him as soon as they stepped outside.

"What? Did you forget about the cold weather?" The older one laughed.

"It's not as cold at Hogwarts, at least not inside the castle," the Slytherin said, feeling his chin start to tremble.

"Unfortunately, our house is'nt charmed to keep the winter's weather outside." Tom Sr. smiled. "You'll have to live with our fireplace."

The boy laughed quietly before looking around and seeing no one else but Emily and her godmother a few meters away from them. The girl also noticed him and waved happily as she grasped the older witch's hand and pointed at them. Tom Jr. saw his father smiling in a almost shy way when the woman waved to them.

"This is your friend, right? The one you talked about in the letter."

"Yes, Emily. She's in Hufflepuff."

"It doesn't help if you just say the name of the house, I don't remember its characteristics."

"The one with the badger, remember?" the boy asked as his father lead him to the car where their driver would be waiting for them. "The colors are yellow and black."

"Oh, I remember it now." The older Riddle smiled. "Loyal, hardworking and patient people, right?"

"Yes."

"They seem to be good people, those Hufflepuffs."

 

____________________________________________________

 

Little Hangleton was covered with snow and seemed to be emptier than the usual as most people preferred to stay inside their houses instead of going out in the cold. But still, Tom couldn't help but feel happy to be back home… Hogwarts was wonderful, it was true, but he missed the village, his house and his relatives.

"Dad?" The man looked away from the snow covered street to his son. The boy glanced at the driver, who was seemingly not paying any attention to their conversation, before whispering. "Did you tell them about Hogwarts?"

"Not yet." The boy's face became worried before he looked away once again.

"Tom?" The older Riddle called when they finally stopped in front of the Riddles' property and went after the boy, who had already exited the car. "I still have to find a way to tell them."

The young wizard didn't seem to be convinced by his father's words, but smiled anyway before following the man to the house.

 

____________________________________________________

 

Tom didn't feel comfortable with being hugged, which was the reason why he was so static when Mary Riddle wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly… At least no one noticed how uncomfortable he was the whole time the woman kept asking him how he was and saying how much she had missed him. Thomas Riddle didn't hug him, actually, the man kept a distance, only looking at him, but that wasn't unexpected… Tom knew his grandfather was only waiting for the right moment to throw tons of question on him.

"So, how is the new school?" Mrs. Riddle asked when the four of them were already having dinner.

"It's really good."

"Better than your old school?" This time it was Mr. Riddle who asked.

"Much better."

"And what makes it be so much better?"

Tom Jr. was silent for a moment, but quickly managed to form an answer.

"The education is better." A fake and nervous smile appeared on his lips. "And the students are… friendlier."

"Oh, so you made friends there?" Mary smiled as she spoke, remembering how she always thought her grandson didn't seem to have any friends when he studied in Great Hangleton.

The boy nodded and looked at his father who remained in silence until now, just observing everything.

"And the classes? What are you learning?" The younger Riddle's eyes widened as he heard his grandfather's question. "Your letters didn't specify what you do there."

"I… We do a lot of stuff, it's too much to explain everything."

"Of course." The old man narrowed his eyes as he saw how both his son and his grandson seemed to grow even more uncomfortable with their conversation. "What's your favourite class?"

"Poti…Chemistry." Tom nervously. "I like Chemistry."

"Eleven years old kids learning Chemistry already?" his grandmother asked.

"Yes, they like to start teaching those subjects earlier."

"Interesting… What about your classmates?"

"They're nice, I mean… I don't know everyone very well yet, but most of them seem to be really nice." The only thing the boy wanted to do at the moment was to run away from that place as soon as possible. He felt like every word that left his mouth didn't make any sense! His grandparents would soon notice that there was something wrong.

"Tell me the names of some of them, I may know their families."

"I don't think so," the young boy whispered but soon regretted doing so as he saw how the old man was looking at him in a serious way. "But… There is Abraxas Malfoy, Alphard Avery, Penelope Lynch, Canopus Lestrange, Emily Derwen, Alphard Black, Septimus Weasley…"

"Such strange names," Mary whispered. "I've never heard these surnames, or at least I can't remember any of them."

"Tell me, Tom," the eldest Riddle started speaking once again. "How do the exams work in this school of yours?"

"We have exams in the end of every school year," Tom explained. "But the most important tests are the OWLs and the NEWTs."

"OWLs and NEWTs? I've never heard of those." Mrs. Riddle spoke.

Before his father could do anything to stop his son from speaking, the words had already left the boy's mouth. Tom Sr. knew how his son liked to talk about those tests; after all he was the one who listened to the child talking for hours about how these exams worked and how they seemed to be really difficult… He knew Tom Jr. was now absorbed in the conversation with the mention of the tests, and that meant the boy wasn't even thinking when he explained the meaning of the names.

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels and…" The young wizard's voice cracked when he finally noticed what he had said.

The boy stared at his grandparents with his widened blue eyes and sunk into his chair as if he was trying to protect himself from the scared glances from the older Riddles.

"Tom." He raised his head to look at his father. "Go to your room."

The child nodded and left the dinner room quickly. When he looked back at his parents, Tom Sr. saw how his mother seemed to be scared and how his father looked at him with a terribly serious expression on his face.

"What does it mean, Thomas? Ordinary Wizarding Levels? What kind of stupid joke is that?"

"It's not… It's not a joke, father… Tom is... Tom is a wizard."

"Wizard?" Mr. Riddle asked while his wife's hand flew to her chest.

"This is how they call people who can perform magic. Another wizard, a teacher, came to explain everything to us." The younger man's long fingers started to twist the fabric of his shirt. In tense moments like these, he found that it was impossible for his hands to be still. "Some times it's a family trait… Like Tom's case."

The couple remained silent for a few minutes.

"You're telling me that my grandson is a… a… is of the same kind of those damned Gaunts? A freak like that family?" Tom Sr. felt sick as he heard his father speaking that way about his son.

"He's not like the Gaunts."

"We should have expected that, right? Look at his mother!"

"Father, Tom is not like them!"

"And I thought the boy was normal! Really, such an intelligent boy… but it seems that it was just a disguise, wasn't it?"

"Tom is normal! There's nothing wrong with him!" The man didn't care if his voice was too loud now.

"Nothing wrong! Do you think the Gaunts are normal? Do you? No! No one does, Thomas! And that boy is just like them!"

"He is not!"

"Thomas…!"

"Stop talking about my son like that! He's a Riddle just like us! If he's not normal, then no one inside this house is!" Tom Sr. interrupted the other even though a tiny voice inside his head kept trying to warn him to stop. "He has been a wizard since he first came here and did you even notice that? No! Did he harm anyone being like that? Did it spot our reputation? No! He's as normal as any other boy in this godamn village, so don't say he's a 'freak' or 'like the Gaunts', because my son is none of that!"

Mr. Riddle didn't say a word after the younger one stopped talking. He simply looked at his son with a cold look before leaving the room.

"Tom?" Mrs. Riddle's quiet voice called and the man felt bad for forgetting his mother's presence. The woman was pale and a scared expression was on her face. "What do you mean…? Is Tom really like… Like the Gaunts?"

"Mother." Tom Sr. approached the old lady and knelt in front of her, taking her shaking hands into his. "Please calm down."

"I'll calm down once you explain…"

"He's not like them." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't know much about this wizarding stuff, but I know that there are those who use their… magic the wrong way, like the Gaunts…"

"Have you ever met one that used their magic for something good?"

"Yes." He smiled. "The teacher from Tom's school who came to talk to us seemed to be a respectable man… And he took us to a place in London where they sell magical stuff! You had to see it… There was a store that sold flying broomsticks and other that sold magic wands." The woman laughed quietly and Tom felt a little more relieved. "You had to see how Tom seemed to be happy while he was there."

"I bet he was really happy." Mary smiled softly and raised her hand to comb her son's hair with her fingers. "You know your father didn't mean anything that he said… So, don't worry, he'll soon stop being so stubborn."

"I hope so, mother."

____________________________________________________

 

As he passed in front of his son's bedroom, Tom couldn't help but enter it to see if the boy was alright. The child was sitting on his bed, already with his pyjamas on and with a book open on his lap. Everything seemed to be normal but the man could see how the little one seemed to be too quiet.

"Tom?" His son's eyes left the book and fixed on his face. "What are you reading?"

"Tales of Beedle the bard… I found it at the library in Hogwarts."

"Is it good?" The muggle smiled and sat down next to the boy who simply nodded.

He was too quiet. Alright, Tom was a quiet child but he always started talking when the wizarding world came into a conversation.

"How much did you hear?"

Tom Jr. closed the book and looked away from his father.

"It's been quite some time since I was last called a freak…"

The Muggle wanted have the courage to go downstairs and yell at his father until his voice was gone, tell him he didn't have the right to humiliate his son…. Basically, to say everything he had already told the older Riddle earlier but, this time, he wouldn't let his father's stern looks intimidate him.

"He didn't mean what he said." The man ran his hand through the boy's hair and, then, took his chin and raised his head gently. "Your grandfather is… Nervous, but I'm sure he didn't mean anything he said. He's proud of you."

To see his son's blue eyes filled with tears made Tom Sr. feel bad… The last time he saw the young wizard this way was on his seventh birthday.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow." The older Riddle kissed the top of the boy's head. "Don't worry."


	12. About Hogwarts and wizards

The days before New Year's Eve at the Riddles' house weren't good. Thomas would only talk to his wife, and he ignored his son and his grandson as much as he could. Tom Sr. had given up on trying to talk to his father, at least until he was sure the man had calmed down, which didn't really seem possible, and the youngest of the Riddles spent most of his time in his room, with the excuse that he had to study.

On December 31st, Tom Sr. decided to take his son for a walk around their property. It was a good excuse to have some time alone with the boy, without being bothered by his father's constant stare or his mother's worried looks. Also, it would be good for the younger Riddle to leave that house, even if it was only for a few hours.

"It's cold. We should go back home, otherwise…"

"You sound like your grandmother."

Tom, who was walking next to him, grimaced briefly but didn't say anything. The man smiled softly, stopping and putting his hand on the young wizard's shoulder. Tom Jr. looked up, an emotionless expression on his face.

"Happy birthday."

"Happy is not the best word to…" The boy whispered.

"Tom." The older Riddle laughed, kneeling down in front of his son and grasping his shoulders. "Stop being so pessimistic, please."

"I'm just saying the truth! I know he's still mad at me…"

"He's not." The man said, brushing his son's hair aside. "As I said before, he's just stressed… It'll go away soon and he'll start to talk to you again."

Tom Sr. gazed at the boy, whose once emotionless expression was now softening and showing some of his true worry. "You've been living with us for five years already. He won't suddenly forget you're his grandson and how much he loves you."

Tom nodded, but the worried look didn't leave his face as he watched his father get up from the snow covered ground.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Why did they marry each other?"

"Your grandparents? Because they loved each other, obviously. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that… they're so different some times." The boy shrugged. "I don't know how they manage to live with each other, being so different."

"I have a theory that this is the exact reason why they worked out so well." The man smiled. "They love their differences and can't live without them."

Tom Jr. was silent for a while when they started to walk again. The boy noticed they were in a part of the village he had never been before. Actually, they were outside Little Hangleton, on the opposite side of it.

"I believe we've went far enough," his father said quietly, looking around as if he had finally noticed where they were. "Let's go back."

"Alright… Ah, Emily sent me a letter today."

"Really?" The man smiled. "What did she write?"

"She just wished me a happy birthday and sent me a book."

"A book?"

"The Practical Guide for Young Wizards." Tom Jr. laughed quietly. "It's some kind of introduction to the Wizarding world, for Muggle-born wizards."

"It was really nice of her to send you this, although I believe you must already know everything that's written in that book." The Muggle felt better when he saw his son laughing, finally losing that worried look. "Don't forget to thank her."

"I already did."

"Good."

_"And he dares walk by here…"_

Tom Jr. stopped walking when he heard an unknown voice come from somewhere near him and his father. The Muggle looked at his son with a curious look on his face as the boy kept staring at the dense mess of trees and bushes next to the small road where they were walking on.

"Tom?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Someone was…" The wizard started to speak. "Nevermind."

 _"Filth of the world."_ This time, the boy followed the direction from where the voice seemed to be coming from. Tom Sr. seemed to be on the edge of panicking when he saw his son heading to the bushes and trees, where he knew very well the Gaunts house stood behind.

"Tom!"

Before the child could manage to get the chance to look at the house of the Gaunts, his father walked up to him quickly and picked him up in his arms, grateful that the boy was actually pretty light for an eleven year old.

"Let's go home." The man spoke, his voice now completely different from its usual calm tone. When he finally looked up, Tom Sr. was startled by the sight of a man standing very close to them.

"Now we have two of them," the man spoke, looking at father and son with his crossed eyes behind his messy dark hair. "Two Riddles… Two disgusting Riddles."

Tom Jr. now seemed to be taken aback by the weird man's figure. The boy was staring at the stranger with widened eyes and his small hands were grasping his father's coat, especially after he noticed that the man's eyes were now fixed on him.

"As if we needed more of you in the world."

"We didn't mean to disturb…"

"Your mere existence disturbs me! You and your disgusting race!" The stranger yelled, making the other man take a step back. The stranger extended an arm in their direction, pointing a crooked stick to them.

Tom Sr.'s eyes grew wider as he looked at the stick. A wand. A wand just like the one his son had back in their house. A wand just like the one Merope used to have. "Alright, we're going away." Riddle whispered, cursing himself for letting his voice crack a bit, giving away the fact he was terrified of what the other man could do.

Once he turned around and started walking back to his house, Tom Riddle Sr. didn't waste time to look back, talk or slow down his steps, and neither did his son question his actions at the time. When they arrived at the Riddle house, the man headed straight to his son's room, not wanting to risk the chance to meet his father or his mother in case he went to the guest room.

Tom Sr. leaned his back against the door and held the boy closer to himself, letting a shivering breath escape from his lips. He really hated himself for letting the signs of his panic show up so easily, but the only thing he could do at the moment was try to calm down.

"Dad?" The child's voice came so quietly he almost didn't hear it. "Dad, are you alright?"

"Of course… Of course I am." A broken smile appeared on the man's lips as he looked at his son, finally putting him on the floor, letting his hand brushing away his dark hair.

"Your hands are trembling."

"It's from the cold."

Tom would never admit to his son that the reason he had almost fainted in front of him was that the mere sight of Morfin Gaunt was enough to terrify him. The strange man's threats had never scared him like that before the whole Merope Gaunt fiasco, but, after that, Riddle had learned what the Gaunts were capable of and he wouldn't risk staying too long near one of them, let alone one pointing a goddamn wand to his face and threatening not only him, but his son.

"I'm alright, really." He laughed nervously. "Tom, just… just promise me you'll never get near that place again."

"I…" The boy seemed to be ready to ask something, but decided to leave it alone. "I promise."

"Thank you."

 

___________________________________________

 

New Year's Eve that year was quiet in the Riddle house. The only thing the family had to celebrate the end of the year was the quiet dinner that had, which now substituted the big parties the Riddles used to throw. The difference in that year was that the dinner seemed to be much quieter than the usual, which was extremely uncomfortable.

For the first time in his life, Tom Riddle Jr. decided he would rather be in the middle of his grandparents' friends, being analyzed by each of them and hearing their gossips than being in a quiet room with his grandfather who would not stop staring at him with those cold eyes of his.

"Tom?"

The boy didn't look up to his grandfather, believing that the man was talking to his father.

"Not you! I want to talk with my grandson!" Upon hearing this, the boy raised his head. He noticed his father seemed to be worried about how this conversation would end, just like his grandmother, but neither of them did something to stop Thomas from talking. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you." The boy said quietly, hoping that their conversation would end there.

"So... Tell me about this school of yours. And tell me the _truth_ now."

"Father…"

"I believe I was talking to my grandson, and not my _son_."

That made Tom Sr. go quiet, which left the younger Riddle even more uncomfortable. The child hated to see how his father seemed to be terrified of Thomas.

"So?"

"It's a normal school, well… Except for the fact that we learn magic." He saw the man narrow his eyes. "But, aside from that, it's pretty… normal. We have homework, projects and exams like any other school."

"What kind of subjects do you have?"

"Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defense Against Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic…"

"And the teachers? Are they good?"

"Very good."

"And how do the exams work?"

"By the end of each school year we have our exams. In fifth year we have the OWLs, or Ordinary Wizarding Levels, and, in our seventh year, we have the NEWTs, the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test."

"What a lovely name for a test," Mary said sarcastically.

"It's not a lovely test." Tom Jr. smiled.

The four Riddles went quiet once again.

"How have these people managed to hide themselves so well?" Thomas asked, shaking his head. "There's a school to teach magic and no one has ever heard about that? How's that even possible?"

"Wizards are good at hiding… Sir, could I get something from my room?"

Tom Jr. smiled when he saw his grandfather nod and got up. As soon as the boy left the room, Thomas turned his head to look at his son.

"Since when did you know?"

"Since he turned seven," the man explained. "I already suspected he was like that."

"What about _her_?"

"Yes."

Before any of them could speak again, Tom Jr. came in. The boy didn't say anything, just approaching his grandfather and handed him a small green book.

"A friend gave it to me," the young wizard explained. "It's useful if you're trying to understand how the Wizarding world works."

The older Riddle grabbed the book and analyzed its cover for a while, before opening it and looking through its pages while his wife, sitting by his side, stretched her neck so she could also take a look at the book. Tom Jr. couldn't help but smile as he watched his grandparents seem to be so interested in what was written in those pages about the world which was now part of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, even though Tom Sr is all interested in the fact his son is a wizard, he's still kinda afraid of magic, after all, his life changed due to magic. As for Thomas... I read somewhere a quote saying something like "A father may not like his son, but a grandfather will never dislike his grandson."... Thomas, in my point of view, is super proud of Tom Jr, so I believe he wouldn't be mad at him for so long... he wasn't really mad, more like "I can't believe this is happening, how didn't I see it before? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Does it make sense?


	13. Slytherin's first mudblood

When the classes started again, a lot of the students at Hogwarts seemed to be more relaxed thanks to the holidays. Tom was no exception. The boy didn't mind listening to Professor Binns' lectures for hours, nor did he get tired after doing tons of essays for Dumbledore and Slughorn. He seemed to be even happier and more lighter than when he first got to the school.

"You look way too happy for me, Tom."

"What, is it illegal for me to be happy?" The boy laughed, watching the Hufflepuff girl sitting with him in the library.

"Of course you are, but usually you're so serious." She shrugged.

"I have my reasons to be happy, I guess."

"Oh, really?" she laughed. "Why don't you tell me what they are?"

A tiny smile appeared on Tom's lips.

"My grandparents discovered I'm a wizard."

"Oh, that's great... Wait..." Emily furrowed her eyebrows at him, making him start to feel uncomfortable. He hated it when she stared at him in that way. "Your grandparents didn't know you were a wizard?"

"Er, no."

"But... How did you come to Hogwarts? Didn't your father tell them? I mean, you live with them, how come they didn't notice their grandson was a wizard?"

"They simply didn't know magic existed, so they never looked for it... Especially my grandfather; he only believes in something when he sees it.. I think he's still not convinced I'm really a wizard, since I couldn't really show it to him," the Slytherin explained. "My father simply told them I was moving to another school, a place called Hogwarts which was away from Little Hangleton and better than Eton."

"Eton?"

"It's a Muggle school. I was doing my admissions tests for it when I received my Hogwarts letter."

"I see." Emily smiled. "But now they know, right? They know you're a wizard... How did they react?"

"Badly." The smile dropped from the girl's face as soon as she heard his answer. "My grandfather didn't speak with me and dad for a few days... I really thought he was going to disown us or do something like that."

"Tom..."

"But then he got used to the idea, I guess. The book you gave me for my birthday? He's reading it right now."

"Oh, I'm glad it's being useful." The Hufflepuff smiled. "And how did they find out? Your father told them?"

"No, I got them by surprise; let it slip while talking about the school."

"Oh..."

"But now everything is alright."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Emily, closing the book she had opened over the table, and she stretched her arms. "Merlin's beard, how long have we been here?"

"About two hours," said Tom, putting his quill aside while watching the girl put her things in her bag. "At least we finished our Herbology essays."

"At least... Now we have Defense," she said. "Ah, Merlin, I hate that class."

"You have Defense, but I don't; my classes on the subject were in the morning. And, do you really hate it? It's the best subject we have so far. How can you hate it?" The boy raised an eyebrow. Emily laughed quietly and got up. Tom followed, and the two first years started walking towards the Library's exit.

"Practical Defense may be, but you forgot that I take the theoretical classes, Tom."

"You just take it because you want to." He sighed. "You know very well that it's not forbidden for girls to take the practical classes."

"Yes, and then I would be the only girl in a classroom full of boys." The Hufflepuff rolled her eyes. "Also, dueling is a wizard thing."

"It's a everyone thing." The boy grimaced. "Everyone, witch or wizard, should know how to duel."

"Have you ever seen a witch dueling, Tom? Have you ever seen a _female_ auror?"

"Auror?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, some times I forget you're not entirely used to the wizarding world. Aurors are members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Like policemen?"

"Ahm, yes, I guess you can say that... Anyway, my point is, duelling is not a woman's job."

The boy wrinkled his nose but stayed silent. From all the girls he had met, Emily was the last one he thought to have such beliefs on which activities were fit for men or women. Alright, he had never seen, for example, a policewoman, but, in his head, it was a waste of time going to Hogwarts and ignoring classes such as practical Defense Against Dark Arts. To duel and to defend yourself was a important thing, after all; one never knew when this kind of knowledge would come in handy. Especially with a war knocing on their door, as his grandfather had been saying in the last few days.

"If you say so..." Tom said. "See you at dinner then."

"Yeah, see you there." Emily smiled and waved him good bye, before turning around and disappearing among the students who were crossing the corridor.

Adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, Tom turned around and started to make his way to the dungeons. He didn't enjoy staying in the Slytherin's common room, because every time he was in there, his housemates always found a way to annoy him. Sometimes Tom wondered if the Sorting Hat had put him in the right house... Yes, he fit in the house's characteristcs, but still, he was from a Muggle family, he had never had contact with the wizarding world before Hogwarts, and he was, as the others called him, a mudblood... More than once the boy wished he had been sorted into Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Even Gryffindor would have been better than the house he was currently in.

"Hey, look who's arrived." Tom sighed as he entered the common room and heard Canopus Lestrange's voice. "How are you doing today, Tom?"

"I'm alright," the boy said, walking past the group of first years sitting on the black couches in front of the fireplace.

"Hey." Riddle rolled his eyes when he heard Lestrange again. "Have you finished your Herbology essay, Tom?"

"Yes."

"How about being a nice classmate and lending it for us to take a look? It's quite difficult to find all the information we need about dittany."

"Everything you need is in the library, Lestrange. I'm sure you don't need my help getting to it."

Before he reached the stairs which lead to the dormitories, Tom felt a shiver run down his spine as a hand clasped his shoulder and held him in place.

"Come on, mudblood, I'm sure you're smart enough to know not to go against us."

"Get away from me." Tom's voice came out low as he glared at the larger boy who was still holding him.

"Let's ask again: will you be nice enough and let us take a look at your essay, dear Tom?" Canopus laughed, followed by the other boys who were watching them. Riddle felt his face burn as he noticed that most of the Slytherins from his year were also in the common room, but he soon stopped looking at his classmates and locked his eyes on Lestrange, who was still laughing.

 _"Let me go!"_ As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he had said something wrong, as Canopus eyes widened and he looked at him with an odd expression on his face. Tom felt the grip on his shoulder loosen a bit and found in this the opportunity to reach for his wand and point it to the other boy. "Relaxo!"

The spell didn't come out perfectly, but it was enough to make the other Slytherin release him and curse under his breath. Before Canopus could do anything else, the smaller wizard left the common room, deciding it would be better for him to stay somewhere else in the castle until dinner – leaving behind a group of attonished Slytherins who were still trying to understand what he had said to their friend, because he had clearly not used English.


	14. Not as bad as it seems

When winter went away and the snow covering the grounds melted, the first-year students were told they would soon have their first flying lesson. This information made every single student get more and more excited as each day passed, as the class was getting nearer. When it finally arrived and all the students stood in two lines, getting checked by their teacher, Professor Oriole, they were either excited and happy, or nervous and not feeling very well with the fact that in a few minutes they would be several feet away from the ground, on a broomstick.

Tom Riddle was in the latter situation. The mere thought of flying, held up only by a broom, scared him and his nervousness seemed to be showing through the fact that he simply couldn't get his broomstick to lift from the ground to his hand. Most of the other students were already holding their brooms – like Emily who, after a few failed attempts, finally managed to get her broom.

"I feel like a idiot," he whispered.

"Don't worry, it's normal for people to not get it right at first," his friend answered.

When every student had managed to get their broomsticks, the teacher started to give them instructions on how they should hold onto the broom or on how they should control the broom during flight.

"Now, get up on your broom and push the ground softly to take flight..." The wizard said. "Don't forget to hold on tight so you won't fall."

As he watched the his classmates lifting from the floor, Tom felt his stomach turn inside his body, and, after hesitating for a while, mounted the broom and pushed the wet grass under his feet. The boy's grip on the wood tightened when he no longer felt the ground, and he noticed that he was flying.

"Hey." Riddle's eyes left the ground and locked themselves on Emily, who was now floating next to him. "See? It's not as bad as it seems!"

The young wizard smiled softly, feeling the wind blowing agains his face and noticing how nice it actually felt to fly.

"Yes..." He laughed quietly. "It's not so bad."

 

**________________________________________**

**  
**

_"It's not as bad as it seems."_

"Did you say something, Mr. Riddle?" Madam Heilen, Hogwarts' healer, asked as she walked past his bed in the Hospital Wing.

"No, ma'am."

Looking at his swollen red wrist, the boy cursed everyone since the inventor of the first flying broom to the greatest Quidditch player of his time. Why did the wizarding world find it amusing to fly on these things? Why did it have to be such a common habit among wizards to fly? It was a dangerous activity! That was the real nature of flying.

"Tom?"

Looking up from his injured forearm, the wizard found Emily standing by his bed, a concerned expression on her face.

"Are you alright?"

"Do I _look_ alright?" He didn't even bother to sound nice.

The girl shook her head before approaching him. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you weren't the only one who fell."

"You're right." He laughed humorlessly, raising his arm. "But I was the only one who fell while not moving... Also, I was the only one who broke something."

"It's not that bad. I'm sure Madam Heilen will fix your bones in a matter of seconds as soon as she finishes taking care of a Gryffindor girl who felt nauseated while flying."

After saying that, the two fell into a awkward silence. Tom hated it when conversations seemed to be over.

"I hope grandma doesn't find out about this," he said quietly.

"That you fell off your broomstick?"

"And broke my wrist." The wizard sighed. "She'll be mad if she finds out... My father promised her Hogwarts was a safe place."

"But Hogwarts is safe!"

"If I get hurt, then it's not safe." Both of them laughed.

"Your family seems to be very nice." The girl smiled. "You're so lucky to have them."

"Well... Your godmother seems to be nice too." Tom smiled awkwardly, trying to break the tense atmosphere that had settled down around them.

"Oh, she is," said Emily. "Did you know she writes for the Daily Prophet?"

"Really? I'll pay more attention next time I read the paper."

 

**________________________________________**

**  
**

Tom didn't look up as he entered his dormitory. He didn't want to look at his classmates' faces after what had happened earlier at their flying classes, but it seemed that the others were happy to see him.

"Hello, Tom," Avery called from across the room where he was changing into his pajamas. "Did you enjoy the flying class today?"

_'Ignore them. They want your attention... Just ignore them.'_

"How's your arm?" asked Lestrange mockingly. "It was quite the fall, especially for someone as fragile as you."

"It looks like our pet mudblood is not as good with a broomstick as he is with books and parchment." Alphard laughed loudly. "He can't even hold himself on it."

"Of course, Al. Every mudblood that arrives at Hogwarts is terrible at flying, but our Tom managed to beat them all in only one flight."

"As if you were so good at it," Riddle whispered to himself as he took of his cloak and hung it next to his bed.

"Ah, Tommy," said Avery, approaching him. "My father has been teaching me how to fly since I was seven." He smiled, giving a few light slaps on the smaller boy's back. "What did your Muggle father teach you? How to stay locked up inside a library during the whole day? How not to have a social life?"

Tom took a deep breath before getting his clothes and walking to the bathroom, ignoring the loud laughs coming from his housemates.

 

**________________________________________**

**  
**

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes."

"You don't seem better," Emily whispered to her friend, who was sitting next to her at the almost empty Hufflepuff table. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he answered, not bothering to look up from the parchment he was writing on. When Emily didn't say anything, Tom looked up at her, noticing that she was still staring at him. "Alright, if you want to know; I had to endure Avery, Lestrange and Malfoy talking about how terrible I am at flying and how it's because I have a useless Muggle father, unlike _them_ , who have great wizarding relatives who taught them how to fly before they could even learn how to read. Are you happy now?"

"...If it makes you feel any better, Evelyn never taught me how to fly. She says broomsticks are way too dangerous." The boy rolled his eyes in frustation wheb he heard her. "Look, don't be annoyed... Those boys are idiots, they just want to irritate you. You know very well your father is not a useless Muggle... Tell me, do any of them have any idea how a telephone works? Do they even know what a telephone _is_? I didn't know until you told me! Do you think any of their parents taught them how to... how to work with those things... er, I forgot what they were called... You told me your grandfather thaught you about them, and they're about mathematics..."

"Logarithms?" Tom laughed, "I don't even know how they work."

"But your grandfather tried to teach them to you, right? I bet they don't know what they are." She smiled proudly, tapping her book with the tip of her fingers. "Now, can you give me some help here? I can't understand the difference between Ghouls and Boggarts."

"Oh, that's easy."

"If it's so easy, teach me, Mr. Riddle." She laughed.

"A Boggart likes to hide in dark places where it knows it'll get the opportunity to scare people. They're shapeshifters and change their bodies into a person's worst fear... But that's basically the goal of their lives: to scare people," Tom explained, gesturing a lot. "A ghoul, on the other hand, is also a shapeshifter, but it uses this... skill to attack people."

"Attack?"

"They eat them."

"Ew."

"Right, but there are cases in which Ghouls can leave peacefully alongside witches and wizards, at least if they give the Ghoul a good place to live." Riddle pointed at his book. "At least it's what's written in here."

"So... both of them are shapeshifters and can live among wizards," said Emily. "But the majority of Ghouls are mean and just want to trick you so they can have a nice dinner, while the Boggarts just want to have a good laugh at you."

"You can say it that way."

"And some Ghouls can be quite nice to people... But, Tom, why would someone want to have a friendly Ghoul in their houses? Imagine having one of them living in your attic; it would be terrible!" She laughed quietly. "Anyway, aren't Boggarts a third year subject?"

"Yes, but we're studying the theory of Ghouls right now and, in order to understand it, we must have at least basic knowledge about Boggarts," he said, looking down at his parchment once again ,listening to his friend to close her book and get her things into her bag.

"Well, that was all I needed to finish the essay," said Emily happily, before leaning closer to him and pecking him on the cheek. "By the way, thank you." She got up, ignoring the fact that Tom had almost jumped from shock due to the contact. "I'm going to get this book back to the library and leave my bag at Hufflepuff's common room, so... See you later, Tom."

Riddle felt his face burn as he watched his friend walk away from him, leaving the Great Hall, before shaking his head and looking back at his essay. "Oh, for God's sake..." he said when he saw a big blot of dark ink covering his handwriting. "Way to go, Tom."

This, definitely, wasn't a good day for Tom Riddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1- Tom and his horrible flying skills: I have no idea of why but I can't help but imagine Tom as someone who is scared of flying. He likes to have his feet on the ground, where he knows he won't be in danger... And he doesn't trust anything to "hold him up" on the air like a broom or, I don't know, a flying creature like a thestral... This came up to my head when I read DH and Harry says Voldemort "flies without the help of a broomstick" '-'.
> 
> 2- "If I get hurt, then it's not safe.": Mrs. Riddle is a overprotective grandmother. I imagine her being super overprotective with Tom Sr when he was younger... She's actually not as much like that with Tommy Jr [as she agreed with letting him go to a school in Great Hangleton and, later, to Hogwarts... thing that, in my head, she would never allow Tom Sr to do. In my headcanon, Tom Sr was homeschool until he turned thirteen and went to Eton, because his mum was way too overprotective over him].
> 
> 3- "It was quite the fall, especially for someone as fragile as you.": Ari is a weird person who simply can't imagine Tom being all super tall, strong and etc etc... I like to imagine him being quite short for his age and having a small frame. His strenght is not in physical force, but in his magic.


	15. Blut und Ehre

During the three months he spent at Little Hangleton, Tom heard his grandfather talking about the upcoming war. From what he could understand, a man called Adolf Hitler was testing the limits of a peaceful companionship with the other coutries of Europe. Accourding to Mr. Riddle, it didn't matter if Prime Minister Chamberlain trusted Hitler, he didn't – and would never – trust that man... He said he would never trust someone with crazy ideas like Mr. Hitler's – the whole "mindless eugeny thing" as his granfather called it.

While Thomas worried about Adolf Hitler and his Nazis, young Tom worried about another man. Since he had started Hogwarts, he had heard about a powerful wizard whose name had been becoming more and more well known in the last few months: Gellert Grindelwald. Riddle couldn't help but compare Germany's dictator to that wizard, especially after understanding what Grindelwald really wanted: a purified wizarding world, with no Muggle-borns, Half-Bloods or Muggle lovers. These ideas – plus the fact the wizard seemed to be involved with Dark Magic - led to a lot of hate towards Grindelwald and, in the last few months, it seemed that, in case he took a step over the line, the rest of the wizarding world was ready to declare a war against him and his followers.

Tom told his family about the dark wizard, which made his grandmother become worried about how safe that "wizarding world of his" actually was. His father seemed to believe, as everyone else who knew of the existance of Hogwarts, that the school was safe, even if a war broke out. His grandfather, after learning about Grindelwald, came up with the theory that both men – Gellert and Adolf – were working together, a theory which, to Mr. Riddle's amusement, his grandson shared.

But, by the end of July – nothing could be said properly. The only thing they could do was to brace themselves for a war – Muggle or magical, it didn't matter – and wait for things to sort out.

 

**_______________________________________**

**  
**

"This is not good," Tom said quietly as read the front page of the Times his father had sent him that morning. "Not good at all."

"What happened?" Emily asked, stretching her neck so she could read the headline. "Who's Hitler?"

"A Muggle," the Slytherin explained. "Britain has declared war against him."

"Why?" The girl's eyes widened.

"Because he's mad." Riddle lowered the newspaper and turned to his friend. "He has some crazy ideas and is breaking a treaty Germany signed years ago, after the Great War. My father told me he took over Poland a few days ago, and now England has declared war against him."

"Well... it can't be too horrible, right?" Emily gave him a weak smile. "He's just a Muggle and..."

" _Just_ a Muggle?" Tom raised an eyebrow at the Hufflepuff.

"Yeah, I mean... Oh, _no_. No, Tom, I didn't mean it that way!" she said, putting a hand on his arm while he put the strap of his backpack on his shoulder and got up. "Tom, you know I would never mean something like that."

"I need to get my Potions book from the dormitory," the boy said, walking away from his friend. "See you later, Emily."

Tom sighed as he left the Great Hall. He knew very well that the witch didn't mean to offend his family, but, in one way or another, it did. The whole wizarding world was concerned about a possible war against Lord Grindelwald – and they had the right to be – but they always ignored what was happening to the Muggle world, the war that was going to strike it as well... The war that would interfere with the magical world too, just like Grindelwald would meddle with Muggles as well. The fact the wizarding world seemed to be so closed around itself, so concerned about being hidden, that it ignored what happened around them, irritated Riddle so much.

 

**_______________________________________**

**  
**

"This is horrible."

"What?"

"Look." Emily handed him the Daily Prophet she was holding. On the front page, huge letters formed its headline - ** _THE WAR IS HERE: MINISTER OF MAGIC DECLARES WAR AGAINST GELLERT GRINDELWALD_** – and, just below it, there was a photo of a tall man with long hair tied with a dark ribbon talking and gesturing with his hands with the subtitles saying: _"Tibald Daileigh, Minister of Magic, says Grindelwald has 'crossed the line' after attacking three wizarding villages in a row in Poland, followed by the attack of a Muggle family in Austria."_

"It was obvious this would happen sooner or later," whispered Tom.

"Most of us believed England wouldn't be so radical to start a war."

"Wouldn't be so radical? The Ministry did right thing, Emily." Riddle sighed, giving the newspaper back to her. "Grindelwald is declaring a war against any wizard of witch whose blood is not considered pure, and nowadays, most of the wizarding population is not pure blooded, so, following that line of thought, he's declaring a war against most of the wizarding world."

"I only hope it doesn't reach Hogwarts."

He knew Emily always forgot Muggles weren't as effective as wizards when it came to defend themselves against magical folks.

"I only hope it doesn't reach England at all."

 

**_______________________________________**

**  
**

"I think he's doing the right thing." Tom raised his eyes from the book he was reading and looked at Alphard Avery, who was sitting at the other side of the common room, playing chess with his namesake, Alphard Black. "I mean, he's just making the wizarding world belong to those who actually have the right to possess magic... Also, he wants to bring us out of the shadows, doesn't he?"

"What do you mean, Al?" asked Lestrange, who was laying down on the black couch, reading a magazine about Quidditch.

"I mean he wants to bring the wizarding world out of the hiding," the other explained. "We've been hiding ourselves since the dark times, when Muggles hunted us down... Back them, the magical folks were too scared of showing up, too weak to stand against the Muggles, who, we all must agree, were barbaric. But now we have the greatest community in the world and I'm sure we would beat the Muggles without much effort."

"You do realize," Tom said, drawing the attention of the other boys to him. "That the time of throwing people at the fire or hanging them is over, right? Muggles have evolved since then, just like the wizards did."

_"And?"_

" _And_ , Avery, it makes no sense today to kill a Muggle because of the fact you're afraid he's going to burn you," Riddle muttered, feeling the urge to shove a mountain of Muggle's history books into his housemate's hands. "We hide because our magic can be dangerous for both worlds if it falls in the wrong hands."

"As if Muggles knew how to appreciate our magic." Alphard snorted.

"Is that what you think? How do you imagine Hitler ascended to power so quickly? How come the wizarding war started two days after the Muggle one? Oh, _wait_ , I bet you don't even know there is a war going on in the Muggle world."

"Whatever, Riddle, you're just defending the Muggles because you're one," said Lestrange, sitting up on the couch. "If Grindelwald wins, you and your family would be the first ones to go down."

The smaller Slytherin clenched his hands before sighing and getting up. As always, the library seemed to be way better than the Slytherin common room.

 

**_______________________________________**

**  
**

"Riddle!"

"What is it now?" Tom groaned, turning around and seeing Abraxas Malfoy approaching him quickly.

"You walk way too fast," the blonde panted. "You forgot your book back in the common room."

Riddle narrowed his eyes, looking at the dark-covered book the other was holding. After hesitating a bit, Tom took the book from Malfoy's hand, said a quick "thank you" and turned around.

"Hey..."

" _Yes_ , Malfoy?"

"What you said about that Muggle, Hitler," said the other Slytherin. "My mum said the same thing too." Tom furrowed his eyebrows as he listened to the blond boy. "She has friends in Germany, you see. Friends who aren't completly pure blooded and who are also... how do they call it? Jews. She's scared for them."

"But they're wizards, they can escape from the persecution easily."

"No, you don't understand." Malfoy shifted the weight on his feet uncomfortably. "They're not pure blooded... And, what you said about Lord Grindelwald being behind Hitler, it's true. They are working together. Grindelwald doesn't waste his time hunting down pure blooded wizards that are Jews... But the dirty blooded ones? He helps finding them. His men protect the frontiers and get anyone who tries to leave the Nazi empire without a document stating they are not mudbloods."

"And you're telling me this because...?"

"Because you're the only one in the Slytherin house who understands it, I guess," said Abraxas. "The others believe Grindelwald is doing the right thing, or they have no idea of what's going on outside Hogwarts."

 

**_______________________________________**

**  
**

"Can you please tell me why Abraxas Malfoy is sitting at the Hufflepuff table?"

"Because I told him he could sit there if he wished to."

"And since when are you and Malfoy are friends?"

"Since he showed me he has some brains." Tom smiled and shrugged, before walking to where the other Slytherin boy was sitting. "Hi."

"Hi, I thought I would have to have dinner all by myself in the middle of all these Hufflepuffs." The blond boy laughed awkwardly.

"Do you have any problem with Hufflepuffs?" asked Emily, sitting in front of him.

"None at all, Ms..."

"Derwin, Emily Derwin."

"Ms. Derwin, but I think they don't enjoy Slytherins that much."

"I think we have a reason for that." She gave him a fake smile. "Usually it's a Slytherin who says our house is useless."

"Emily, please," whispered Tom. "Hufflepuff is not useless and Slytherin is not full of gits."

"Alright, I'm sorry." The witch sighed. "So, _Abraxas_... What made you come to join us? I mean, I know Tom comes here because your housemates are not that nice with him due to the fact his father is a Muggle. But you... you come from a nice pure blooded family."

" _Emily_."

"I'm just curious, Tom!"

"I don't know, I just wanted to hang out with other people for a while." Malfoy shrugged. "So, next year we'll have to choose new classes! Have any of you already thought about which ones are you going to take?"

The Hufflepuff girl looked at Riddle with a 'is-he-serious?' look on her face, not understanding the sudden change of subject on their conversation. Tom simply nodded quickly before answering.

"Divination, Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes."

"I think I'll only take Divination."

"None of you want to take Care of Magical Creatures?" Malfoy asked as if they were mad. "Really? It's the best subject!"

"Isn't it... dangerous?" the girl said. "I heard the students have to face a lot of dangerous creatures... like hipogriffs."

"But that's the nice thing about the class!"

Tom couldn't help but smile as he watched the two students discuss the possibility of getting their arm ripped off by a crazy hipogriff during class. It was interesting to see how much of his personality Abraxas Malfoy hid behind his family name... He had never seen the other boy speaking the way he was with Emily, nor did he had any idea the blonde had a huge love for animals – magical or not – especially birds... By the end of the meal, the three second year students were laughing and talking as if they had been friends since they first stepped into Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1- The Wars: so, since I read DH, I couldn't help but come up with crazy theories about how Grindelwald and Hitler, in the HP universe, were actually working together. In my head, they supported each other in their wars...And those wars interfered in both worlds, the Muggle and the wizarding one. So, this chapter was more to show all these stuff about the wars.
> 
> 2- Abraxas Malfoy: I noticed how everyone seem to write Abraxas as a copy of Draco and decided to try something different...What if Abraxas was actually a nice guy who, due to the convivence with the other Slytherins, ended up becoming a git like them? So, here is Abraxas being a nice guy. I kept imagining him as "the odd grandpa Malfoy" to Draco all the way while writing (x
> 
> 3- Blut und Ehre: "Blood and Honor". The motto that was etched on the early knife blades of the Hitler Youth. Later, the practice was abolished and the blades used on the knifes were plain blades.


	16. The Boggart

"I shouldn't have let you drag us to Care of Magical Creatures," Tom said as he kept a few meters away from the big grey hipogriff that kept staring at them with its big yellow eyes. "This is madness... To approach a creature like this is madness."

"It's not horrible, Tom," Abraxas said, stepping in front of them and bowing at the animal.

"Be careful." This time it was Emily who warned Abraxas as she watched the hipogriff look at the blond boy with a quizzical expression.

The creature made a gurgling sound before stepping foward, putting its beak to his hair and sniffing it. After a moment, the animal retreated and, slowly bowed, just like the Slytherin. Tom held his breath as he watched Malfoy looking up at the hipogriff, before walking towards it with his hand outstretched. The smaller Slytherin saw Professor Kettleburn approaching and hoped that the wizard would demand Abraxas to step away, but, instead, he simply encouraged the mad act with words like, "You're doing great, Mr. Malfoy!" or "Don't be nervous, he won't bite your arm off!"

"Shouldn't Kettleburn try to protect his student?" asked Emily in a whisper.

"Didn't you hear what they say about him?" The girl shook her head. "That he's not right in the head."

"Oh... _Merlin's beard!_ Look!"

Tom turned to see what the Hufflepuff was pointing at and was surprised to see his friend patting the hippogriff's dark beak. Abraxas seemed to be happier than he had even been in his whole life. A giant smile was on his face as he watched the giant crature nuzzle its head against his hand.

"He's mad."

"I always thought he was," she said. "This only confirms my thoughts."

"Do any of you want to try too?" the teacher asked, looking around and seeing most of the students backing away, scared of getting closer to the hippogriff. "Come on, class, you saw how easily Mr. Malfoy did it! You... Mr. Riddle, right? Want to give it a chance?"

"I... I don't think it'll allow me to approach, professor," the boy replied shakingly.

"And what about you, young lady?" Emily simly shook her head.

"Stop being boring and go up to the creature, boy!" Kettleburn pushed Tom towards the animal. It raised his head and stared at him coldly. "Now, bow."

Without hesitating, Riddle bowed to the beast, feeling tiny in front of it. When he looked up, he saw, to his suprise, that the hippogriff was now bowing at him. Tom looked at Professor Kettleburn, who was gesturing for him to approach the animal, and then at Malfoy, who smiled to him. The young wizard extended his hand – that, to his dismay, was trembling – and waited for the animal to touch it with its beak.

"See? It's not so bad," whispered Abraxas, smiling.

Tom nodded lightly and smiled to the creature nuzzling against his hand. Malfoy was right. A hippogriff wasn't a horrible creature, but he still preferred snakes.

* * *

The third years students stood in the middle of the Defenses Against the Dark Arts classroom, confused about what Professor Merrythought wanted them to do with that old trunk she had put in front of them. Septimus Weasley was whispering something about the class being about Boggarts, because he remembered an incident in which his mother had found one inside an old wardrobe in his house, Alphard Black, on the other hand, was saying that their teacher could be hiding a Red Cap inside the trunk.

"Good morning, class."

" 'Morning, professor Merrythought," the class answered as they watched her go to the front of the class, an amused look on her face.

"So, do any of you have an idea of what today's class is about?"

"Red Caps?"

" _What?_ No, Mr. Black. Red Caps are found in old battlefields and are extremely dangerous; I not mad enough to bring one to class," she laughed. "Anyone else?"

"Boggarts?"

"Exactly, Mr. Weasley... And who can tell me what a Boggart is? Yes, Mr. Riddle?"

"They're shapeshifters," the Slytherin explained. "They change the form of their bodies to look like a person's worst fear."

"Right, and when can one see a Boggart's true form?"

"Never... I mean, as soon as it senses the presence of a person, it already changes its form, so there is no record of someone who managed to catch a glimpse of the original form of a Boggart."

"Excellent, Mr. Riddle. Ten points to Slytherin." Tom suppressed the smile that came to his face when he heard what the teacher had said. "Today's class will be about how to defend ourselves from a Boggart... During your life, you'll likely find one of these little buggers somewhere and it's good to know how to make them stop annoying you. The thing is: a Boggart can't stand laughs. That's important... So, in order to defeat one of them, you must laugh. The incantation of the spell you must use against it is 'Riddikulus'. Repeat with me: 'Riddikulus'... For Merlin's sake, Mr. Black, don't point your wand at anyone while saying it!"

"Now, I'll open this trunk," she said as she walked around the said trunk and placed her hands on its lock. "And the Boggart will come out... The first student to duel against it – will be you, Mr. Avery, seeing as you seem to be so eager to face it... You must think of a way to make your worst fear look funny and say the incantation. Do I make myself clear?"

The students nodded, watching as Merrythought gestured for Malfoy to get closer, before opening the trunk. From that moment on, the third year students occupied themselves with watching their colleagues duel against their Boggarts... Septimus managed to transform a giant and dangerous looking grasshooper into a tap-dancing grasshooper; Malfoy saw a Ghoul and managed to turn it into another Ghoul gettng beaten by his great grandmother who, according to him, had actually done this once, when she was still alive.

When it was Tom's turn to face the creature, the whole class was already relaxed, not very scared after having to face their worst fear. The young Slytherin smiled softly as he waited for the Boggart to change its form but, as soon as it did, the smile fell from his face.

"D-Dad...?"

Tom felt a shiver run down his spine as he saw not only his father, but his grandparents as well, standing in front of him, staring at him with unpleasant expressions on their faces.

"What do you want?" Tom Riddle Sr. asked, his words seeming to be covered with a layer of ice. "What do you want here? You know very well that this is _not_ your place."

"Imagine that," his grandmother whispered, putting her hand over her heart as if she wasn't feeling well. "Someone related to the Gaunts... Someone related to people that couldn't possibly be a Riddle."

"A freak," said the copy of Thomas Riddle. "That's what you are."

The boy stood stock still, unable to talk and his wand hand trembling. The Boggart was trying to trick him... It wasn't true. His family was back at Little Hangleton, not...

"Tom, the spell!" He heard Merrythought's voice speaking from behind him. "Use it!"

"You can't even be good in the middle of these people." Tom Sr. approached him. " _Half-blood..._ You don't belong in the normal world and neither in this one."

"Dad..." the boy whispered, his voice trembling.

"You shouldn't be with us." His father pursed his lips, looking disgusted by the wizard in front of him. "You shouldn't be in this school... Actually, it would be way better for you if it was actually like that."

The younger Riddle looked at where the Boggart was pointing and felt the air being sucked from his lungs as he saw a copy of himself sprawled on the floor. Pale skin, unmoving limbs, parted mouth with purpleish lips, blue eyes opened and staring at the nothing. The mere sight of it was enough to make Tom run from the classroom without looking behind, ignoring the teacher's calls and fighting against the wave of nausea that took over him, as well as the tears that were welling up in his eyes.

* * *

"Where is he?" the girl asked, looking around.

"I think he went through that door." Abraxas pointed at a door by the end of the corridor where they were walking in. "I think it's better for you to go in alone... You know him better than I do."

The Hufflepuff girl nodded and quickly approached the door the Slytherin had pointed to her. Knocking on it lightly, she opened it and peered inside the room. It was an abandoned classroom which had its tables and chairs lying in a pile in a corner. Its old dark board had white scribbles all over its surface and the sunlight of the end of the day was entering the place through dirty windows.

"Tom..." Emily sighed as she slowly walked up to the boy who was sitting by the window, leaning his forehead against the glass. "Are you alright?" The Slytherin simply looked at her with an emotionless face before looking back at the grounds outside the window. "Right, stupid question... I'm sorry."

The girl took a deep breath, walking closer to him. Riddle didn't move; he simply kept staring through the window, ignoring her even though she was next to him.

"Abraxas told me what happened... Tom, you know that was only a Boggart." She sighed. "Remember what you told me in our first year? That Boggarts like to have a good laugh at us... That they have a twisted sense of humor, but they only want to have fun... It's not true, it would never be true," the girl said. "Your family would never say that to you."

"My grandfather has already said that once," the boy whispered. "When he found out I was a wizard..."

"He was shocked back then, he didn't mean to say it."

"How do you...?"

"Tom Riddle," Emily spoke in a serious tone she had never much before, making her friend finally look at her. "Don't you dare to say your family thinks anything bad about you... They love you very much. Especially your father... I've never seen a father love his son as much as yours loves you, Tom... They would never think you're less than them."

Tom stared at the girl for a while, before sighing and looking away once again. The Hufflepuff sighed, feeling a little nervous, before grabbing the boy's arm and pulling him away from the window, leading him out of the classroom.

"Emily, for Merlin's sake..."

"No, Tom, I should say that," she said. "For Merlin's sake, Tom, stop that! That was a Boggart, a stupid Boggart who wanted to scare you and managed to do so. Alright! Now it's gone, it's locked inside that trunk once again while your family, the family that loves you, no matter what a silly Boggart makes you think, is at home." Emily stopped walking when they were finally out of the classroom. "Now, please, stop sulking and become the Tom Riddle that every Hogwarts student knows, please."

The Slytherin opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it as he noticed that he didn't have a good answer to give his friend. Emily was right. He was getting too affected by a creature whose greatest deed in life was to scare people. He was overreacting.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you liked it (: Comments are always highly appreciated.


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